I Owe You One!
by Cynlee
Summary: Turtle Tot Tale! Sensei takes such good care of them when they're sick, but who takes care of him? A short multichapter story. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

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Hi! This is a short story that will have only two or three chapters-- maybe four, who knows. It's another turtle tot story, and I hope it entertains you.

TMNT are owned by Mirage-- I keep begging and begging, but so far...

I Owe You One

Splinter had a cold. It wasn't bad, but he felt it none the less. He so desperately wanted to spend just one day in bed, but with four turtle tots to care for, how could he?

So he forced himself to work as if nothing were the matter. He'd do what he had to during the day, although a bit slower than normal, and made sure that he took some of the herbal medicines he had acquired over the years. But rest was what he truly needed, not dragging day in and day out through the cold, dank sewers and storm drains, not going topside in this nasty fall weather in the rain and such. But the rain and such made it so much easier to find the best foods for his growing sons, as well as other much needed or desired items, so he had to take advantage of the situation.

More and more he came home with plentiful supplies, a good amount of it new, not discarded in the dumpsters behind the small grocery stores he had been visiting for the past few years in the middle of the night, leaving money that he'd found during his days of scavenging.

He also came home soaking wet, his disguises poor protection against Mother Nature and torrential downpours, and it would take much effort to get all that fur dry. He took his medicines, he drank his tea, and he would get a few hours rest before the new day when training and scavenging and taking care of four active sons consumed his waking moments.

So it was no surprise to himself that he got worse.

In the middle of the night, he could feel the fever rise as it fought the infection that he'd ignored for the past few days-- days of desperately trying to ride herd on four active kids who for some perverse reason were very fractious at the moment.

He had tried earlier that day to hint to his sons that he needed some rest, and would be taking a little nap, and had assigned Raphael the job of entertaining his youngest brother, and Leonardo the task of helping Donatello to master the newest kata. He figured that giving the two oldest these responsibilities would be a good idea, and he might just be able to have an hour or two of rest.

He thought wrong.

"Stop picking on me!"

"Stop annoying me and I'll stop picking on you!"

"I'm not annoying you, and Splinter said to play checkers with me while he took a nap, so play checkers!"

"He didn't say play checkers, he said to entertain you and besides I've already played twenty games of checkers with you, and I'm tired of winning! Now go 'way!"

"You could let **me** win, ya' know."

"YOU could learn how to play checkers so I wouldn't beat you twenty games in ten minutes!"

"You're picking on me again!"

"I'm not picking on you, I'm tellin' you to get away from me!"

"I'm warning you, Raph! Stop picking on me or I'll-- I'll--"

"Cry like a baby?"

"(crying) I'm not a baby!"

Splinter sighed, got up from his bed, and broke up yet another pointless argument instead of resting as best as he could. That problem settled, he went back to bed.

"Don, let's go!"

"No, Leo, I'm busy. I wanna finish this invention."

"But you're suppose to be practicing with me! Sensei is taking a nap and he told me to help you learn this kata! Come on!"

"Not now, Leo! I'm busy. I'll learn it later!"

"That's what you said earlier. **Now** is 'later'."

"It's not the 'later' **I** was talking about."

"Don! Come on! Splinter told me to teach you and I'm going to teach you!"

"Leo! Let go of me! Leo! I'm warning you!"

There was the sound of much crashing and thumping and hitting, and cries of "kee-ya!" and "hy-yah!"

Splinter rose from his bed, where he'd told the boys earlier that he would be taking a nap, and went to settle this impromptu sparring match over practice versus inventions, and then gave up entirely his idea of a nice nap.

As the four of them did ten flips each for disturbing him, he willed himself to stay awake on the couch, watching them perform this penance, and hopelessly wishing for a baby-sitter.

And he took more medicines, and went out in the rain again and again. He foraged as usual, he trained them as usual, and he mediated in more arguments as usual.

But the sons failed to see that Father wasn't his usual self, that Father was sick-- until later one night.

It was Raph that discovered the fever. They had been sitting in front of the TV, Splinter on the couch dozing. Raph and Mikey got into a typical fight over the new remote control that Don had managed to get working. All of them, including Splinter, had greeted this marvel of technology with much admiration and awe, and it was the highest honor to be in control of it for even a short time in the evening; an honor that was highly coveted and diligently worked for during training.

But tonight, Splinter was too tired to officially reward the best that day with the electronic prize, and Mikey and Raph, seated on the couch with Sensei, had eventually gotten into a struggle over the device. In the process, Raph was pushed up against Sensei, and felt the heat coming through the fur, through the robe!

"Sensei?" Startled, he suddenly dropped his struggle with Mikey, causing the younger turtle to fall over backwards off the couch, as he faced his father, who stirred slightly. It didn't take Splinter's lack of a reprimand to tell him something was wrong. "Sensei? Are you all right?"

And his little hand reached out and touched Sensei's forehead, as Sensei had done time and again with each of them.

Raph's face registered shock-- and a hint of fear. That hint of fear was evident in his tone of voice when he exclaimed, "Leo! I think Sensei's sick!"

Leo and Don, who had been seated on the floor, both climbed up on the couch and did as Raph, laying their own hands on their father's forehead.

"Man! He's really hot!" Leo, snatching back his hand, stared in disbelief. Don without thinking jumped down and ran to Splinter's room where he kept the medical supplies, returning with the thermometer.

By now Splinter, well aware of what they were up to but too tired to protest, nevertheless opened his eyes and smiled at them all. They looked shocked and scared, and he needed to reassure them at once.

"No, Donatello, we do not need that," he kindly refused the proffered thermometer. "I have a fever because of an infection. I just need to be able to rest for a day or two."

"What do we do, Sensei?" Leo asked.

"Just stay in the Lair, and do not worry," he said, sighing. He wanted to go to bed, but he was just too tired to get up at the moment.

"We will take care of you, Sensei!" Leo declared, taking charge, and the others echoed this sentiment. They would be brave! They would be strong!

They would be lying, as they all instinctively snuggled in as close as they could to Splinter, trying to not be scared.

Splinter, eyes closed for the moment, smiled nonetheless, and comforted them without words.

Strangely enough, it was Mikey who broke this up.

"Come on, Sensei! You need to go to bed and take some bitter medicine with tea and be tucked in and have your forehead soothed! Come on!" and he pulled insistently on Splinter's hand until the amused rat got up and followed this youngest son to his own room, trailed after by the other three who were now eager to demonstrate that they were just as brave as Mikey.

Splinter was trying hard not to treat their concern lightly. He allowed them to insist that he get ready for bed. They made Sensei get dressed in his night shirt, and then fussed over him in an imperfect yet sincere imitation of how he fussed over them when sick. Splinter was so touched (as well as being amused) that he forgot how miserable he felt, and played along with their ministrations. The four of them tried to tuck him in tightly, but small hands, no matter how eager, can only do so much. Don meanwhile had taken it upon himself to start preparing the bitter medicines and tea, careful of the hot plate that Sensei kept nearby for such uses-- he usually brewed his own tea in the kitchen. Electricity was precious to them and only used for certain things, so as not to draw any attention to themselves from the surface workers.

He let them carry on like this for a short time, for he saw that doing these things was taking the fear from their faces. But after dutifully drinking the tea and medicines that Donatello had so skillfully brewed for him (!), he decided that this game had gone far enough.

"Thank you, my sons, but I feel much better now," he lied, smiling at the four eager faces. "And now it is time for me to put you all to bed." And he started to get up, but four pair of hands "kept" him from rising.

"That's okay, Sensei!" Leo said eagerly. "Me and Raph can put the others to bed!"

"We can put ourselves to bed, Leo," Don frowned, stung that his brother seemed to think himself so much more grownup. After all, hey had put themselves to bed several times before, when they knew that Splinter would be out foraging late into the night during the summer, when it was harder to go topside.

Besides, it had been **Don** who knew to get the thermometer, as well as how to brew the tea and prepare the medicines! Leo didn't know everything! He turned to Splinter.

"Besides, I should stay here tonight and help out, you know. I can make more medicines and tea, and I can read to you, and all that stuff. Right, Sensei."

A statement of fact, not a question-- at least to Donatello's mind.

Splinter smiled at his son, and put a hand on his head in affection. Don knew he was going to refuse, and pressed home his attack.

"Besides, you have a fever, and I know how to help you the best when it comes to that. You should have someone with you!" And he nodded wisely.

"You are a good son, Donatello," Splinter smiled. "You are all good sons. But I do not need someone here all night. If I do I will call for you. But I want you all to go to bed now. Things will be better in the morning."

"But the medicines--"

"I can manage them on my own tonight. Thank-you, my son, for caring so much. You did an excellent job with what you prepared for me. Now go to bed, all of you."

So they bid Splinter a reluctant goodnight and trailed off to their room, after washing up for the night and making sure the Lair was secure.

As Don had pointed out, it wasn't the first time they'd done such a thing-- but tonight for some reason it was different. They climbed into their beds; Leo on the bottom, Mike on top in one bunk, Raph on the bottom and Don on top in the second.

They lay there in the dark for quite some time. Leo, awake,-- it always seemed to take him the longest to fall asleep-- knew when Raph and Don had finally started to doze off. He could tell by their breathing; indeed Raph had begun a very soft occasional snore.

But he also noticed that someone was sniffling as quietly as he could; someone who usually was the first one to conk out once his head hit the pillow.

"Mikey," Leo said as softly as he could in order not to wake Don and Raph. "Mikey, it's okay."

Mikey didn't answer, just tried to smother his increasing sniffles. Leo climbed out of his bed and made his way up to where his youngest brother had covered himself completely with the blanket. He laid a hand on the shaking lump that was his brother.

"Mikey, it's okay," Leo whispered again. This time Mikey answered.

"No, it's not," he whispered back, and he pulled down the blanket and looked at Leo. "Who's going to tuck us in?"

Leo stared at Mikey in the dark, confused at this question. Then realization dawned on him.

"Mikey, it's only tonight--"

"No, Leo!" and Mikey sat up. "I mean, if something happens to Sensei, who will take care of us? Who will raise us? Who will tuck us in?"

"Mikey, nothing is going to happen, it's just a cold, and-- and-- and **I** will tuck you in," Leo insisted sincerely. " 'sides, we aren't always going to be tucked in once we get older."

Mike stared at Leo, puzzled.

"Why not?"

"Because, shell-for-brains," Raph replied lowly, interrupting the conversation, "who wants to be twenty years old and still be getting tucked in by their father?"

Mikey thought that **he** would, but he sensed that this was perhaps not the right thing to say to Raph at this moment. He turned his attention back to Leo.

"**You** would tuck me in?"

"Yep! I promise!"

Thoughtful pause.

"Then, who will tuck **you** in?"

"I will!" Raph snapped. "Now can we go to sleep? If we gotta get up early an' take care of Splinter, we need some rest. An' I'm tired!"

"But," Mikey still couldn't help himself. "If Leo tucks **me** in, and **you** tuck **Leo** in, then who..."

"I will!" snapped Don, who had just been on the edge of comfortable, relaxing, floating sleep when his brother's incessant chatter had snatched him back awake. "And," he quickly added, sensing that Mikey was about to reply, "YOU can tuck ME in. **Now** can we go to sleep?"

Both Don and Raph held their breaths, hoping against hope that Mikey wouldn't catch on to the flaw in this plan. After several minutes of tense anticipation, they heard Mikey sigh in acceptance.

" 'k," he sniffled one final time, and they could hear him settle himself back into bed. Leo had a hard time tucking in the covers, as he had to sit on the top bunk to do it, but he got the job more or less done, and was glad to get into his own bed.

Silence reigned for several minutes.

"Raph, did you tuck Leo in?"

"YES!" All three shouted.

"Is there a problem, my sons?" came the faint inquiry.

"No, Sensei! Goodnight, Sensei! Sorry, Sensei!" they chorused in almost well-rehearsed unison.

"Goodnight, my sons."

"Look," Leo whispered in the dark. "We really need to not get into any fusses for the next few days! Sensei is sick, and he needs the rest. No matter how mad we get, we need to not fight!"

"Leo is right," Don said lowly. "We need to do more than just look after ourselves, we need to get along-- no matter how hard that will be. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Leo affirmed.

Raph could be heard grinding his teeth at this realization. But he loved his father too much to let it hinder him for long.

"Agreed. But I swear, Mikey, when Sensei is better, I owe you one," Raph growled in a whisper, trying to fall back asleep.

But Mikey was already snoring.


	2. Chapter 2

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Here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it. This story is going in a direction I hadn't originally planned, and it keeps growing. I hope it doesn't become a monster! TMNT are the property of Mirage. I had hoped that for my birthday they'd let me claim them for a few hours, but no...

It had been a kind of shock waking up on their own without Splinter standing in the room wishing them a good-morning. For a moment their world was on the verge of shattering. It was stranger to them than not having him tuck them in the night before, and Mikey looked on the verge of tears again as Leo-- the last to fall asleep but the first to wake up-- roused him out of bed in imitation of their father.

"It is time to start the day," he said, smiling cheerfully, hoping to keep his youngest brother from crying.

"Can it, Leo, it's still early," Raph complained, pillow over his head to shut out the sounds of his brothers getting up.

"Come on, Raph, we have to take care of Splinter today," Don prodded him-- none too gently. Raph, caught off guard, rolled off the other side of his bed and thunk onto the floor, tangled in his blanket, with his pillow still wrapped around his head.

The growl coming from the other side only set Don to laughing, while Mikey, still feeling the strangeness of Splinter's not being in the room, made sure Leo was between him and the coming fight.

Raph exploded out of the twisted pile of blankets and pillow, eyes alight with vengeance, hands clenched, teeth grinding, and focused with killer instinct on Don.

Don, surprisingly, just stood there on the other side of the bed, a smile on his face-- a calm, knowing, "I'm ready for you" smile on his face!

"Guys--" Leo barely had time to say, when Raph dived across his own bed, straight for Don, who stood there with that smile never wavering.

Mikey and Leo watched in horror as Raph's hands were inches from Don.

"You agreed," Don simply said, staring Raph dead in the eyes.

Raph froze, hands barely touching his smiling brother. He froze as if his body had locked up and refused to move. His expression, still full of anger, was now registering shocked comprehension. He stood like this for perhaps a minute or so, his fingers wriggling in protest as if demanding to be turned loose to finish the job the entire body had started. But with great great effort, plus a whole lot of frustrated growling that turned into an ever-growing song of protest, Raph brought his body into stand down.

"AAAAHHH! When Splinter is better, I OWE YOU ONE!" he bellowed impotently.

"Is there a problem, my sons?" came the faint, hoarse rasp of their father. He had heard the fuss, and had been waiting for the fight to break out.

"Nothing's wrong, Sensei," Don called cheerfully, still smiling into his brother's anger-filled eyes. "Raph just fell out of bed, that's all. Right, Raphael?"

Raph had to take many deep breathes to get his voice under control, then, by sheer dint of effort, he echoed Don's reply in a tone that matched his brother's perfectly.

"Yeah, sorry to disturb you Sensei!" he managed. "We'll be right there." Then he whispered once again, as fiercely as he could, "I owe you one!"

Don, pushing his luck, put his arm around Raph's shoulder and walked out of the room with him, allowing him first use of the bathroom, keeping Leo and Mikey from beating them to it.

"Good morning Sensei," they chorused, bowing in respect, then piling onto Splinter's bed to start taking care of him. Four small hands took turns feeling for fever, four concerned voices chattered at once.

"Does your throat hurt?" asked Don, trying to peer into Splinter's mouth.

"How about your tummy?" Mikey asked, placing a concerned hand on the blanket. Raph rolled his eyes and grimaced, but kept quiet.

"It's not a tummy, Mikey-- it's a stomach," Don corrected him, thwarted in his attempts to look down Splinter's throat.

"But he always calls it a tummy!"

"For us, Mikey. He's a grown-up. Grown-ups don't have **tummy** aches," Raph couldn't stop himself from saying.

Mikey turned back to his father, ignoring Raph's know-it-all tone of voice.

"You should let us take your tempashure."

"It's 'temperature', Mikey," Leo corrected him. "We should go make some breakfast for him."

"Yeah, what would you like to eat?" asked Don, feeling Splinter's forehead as he asked.

"How about pancakes?" Mikey suddenly grinned in reply, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Not for you, Mikey, for him!" Leo responded sharply.

"I **meant** for him!" Mikey responded in an injured tone of voice. "He likes pancakes, don't you Sensei?"

"He can't eat pancakes if he's sick," Raph snapped at his little brother.

"But he doesn't have a tummy ache, so why can't he?

"Listen, shell-for-brains--"

"My sons," Splinter calmly, though hoarsely, interrupted, and four anxious pairs of eyes immediately turned to him. "My sons, I am feeling much better, and I believe that I will get up and fix breakfast for all of you."

"No!" four voices, united in brotherly concern, refused him. The tone, indeed the force behind that denial momentarily shocked Splinter. It wasn't disrespectful-- it was caring. But it was also adamant.

"We can do it, Sensei," Leo affirmed, backed up by his brothers. "We can make simple things, and we will be careful of the stove. We know how to do our chores, and we can even do training in here if you wish, but you need to stay in bed."

The other three crossed arms, eyes locked in determined gazes on their father, and nodded in agreement with Leo.

"I'll make the tea, Sensei," Donatello said, taking the depleted kettle and the used cup to the kitchen to fetch water and clean up the cup as well. "I'll be back to mix up the medicines."

"Come on, guys, let's go get breakfast," Leo led the way, and they marched out cheerfully in charge-- all except Mikey, who couldn't help himself-- he suddenly turned at the door, ran the short distance to the bed, and launched himself into the waiting arms of his father. Splinter had known he needed a hug, and had just been anticipating how long it would take this youngest son to finally claim it.

He cuddled Michelangelo as though he were the ill one, and was going to soothe him with words-- but before he could speak, Michelangelo looked into his eyes.

"It's all right, father," Mikey said, patting his head. "You'll be better in no time! I'll take care of you."

Then he climbed down from his surprised father's bed and ran to the kitchen.

"Hmmm" Leo, lost in thought, stared at what they had. "I think the last time I was sick I was able to eat toast and scrambled eggs. What do you think, Raph?"

Raph pondered this request for his opinion, thinking of the times he'd been sick.

"The last time I was sick, I couldn't eat much of anythin'," he remembered. "I was pukin' all day and all night. I think I just had tea and toast."

"Well, that's two votes for toast," Leo decided, and he got the bread and butter and approached the toaster warily.

Leo was a dedicated student. He did his lessons faithfully, he studied even in his spare time, and he practiced everything he was taught in the dojo until he had perfected it. He could scavenge with Splinter, finding choice items that even the rat had overlooked, and was even learning to read Japanese.

But the one thing he hadn't mastered was his way around the kitchen.

He approached the toaster with a growing dread in the pit of his stomach. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how careful he was, this device always managed to burn the toast whenever he used it.

He reached his hands with the slices of bread closer and closer to this gleaming nemesis. It seemed to be mocking him as it reflected his face, forehead wrinkled in trepidation, mouth pinched with nervous anticipation; his hands, getting closer to those two slots, began to shake, and Leo pulled them back as if they had been about to do some unimaginably dangerous stunt, like leap from the highest railing into the main drainage junction below, or sucker punch Raph while he's in a bad mood.

Raph, laughing, snatched the bread from his brother's hands and with a "here, baby," he quickly made the toast.

"I'm not a baby," Leo said under his breath, face burning with embarrassment and growing annoyance at the smug expression on Raph's own countenance.

"Some ninja in training you are," Raph teased, getting the knife and a plate. "You can do the perfect kata but you're scared of a toaster."

"I'm not scared of the toaster, Raph!"

"Scared of a lil' ol' machine that toast bread!"

"I'm not scared!"

"Hey, Leo-- TOASTER!"

"I'm warning you!"

But Raph laughed in his face, as he buttered the perfectly crisped toast, and sauntered out of the kitchen to take it to Sensei.

"You just wait Raph," Leo called after him. "I owe you one!"

Mikey had come into the kitchen, and witnessed the last bit. He put an arm around Leo.

"Don't listen to Raph, Leo," he said, trying to soothe his big brother. "He's a doo-doo head."

Leo, looking at the comical face that Mikey made when he said this ridiculous phrase, burst out laughing, causing Mikey to join in with relief.

"Aww, Mikey! I owe you one," Leo grinned, giving his brother a hug. "Now, what can I do to help you make breakfast?"

Mikey's grin froze on his face. It was true, Mikey had been learning to cook, and was quite good, but he never did it without the supervision of Splinter. Now Splinter was in bed, and the only one to supervise was Leo-- Leo, who could start a fire by opening the fridge.

Well, Mikey thought, maybe not as bad as that, but still...

"Umm... why don't we have cereal this morning?" Mikey suggested as nonchalantly as possible, getting a chair so he could climb up to the cupboard where Sensei kept the dry goods. "You get the milk and bowls, and I'll get the --"

There was no cereal.

Nuts.

"I think I'd like some pancakes, Mikey," Leo said, trying to ignore Mikey's lack of enthusiasm. He got out the ingredients and mixing bowl and turned on the stove for Mikey. Then, to put his brother at ease, he moved away from the fire and sat down at the table.

It hurt that his brother didn't want his help, but he would swallow this down for Mikey's sake. And for Sensei's.

But I still owe you one, he thought sourly, and this time he didn't mean in a brotherly way.

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Later, with the dishes washed up and the morning's chores finished, the four turtles assembled in their father's room to report.

Each could see that, despite his reassurances, he looked unwell. He seemed tired, as if he hadn't slept well, and his voice was getting worse. They began to wonder if this was going to be longer than a day or two of simple bed rest.

"I looked over the medicines," Don was saying, "and we have plenty, so there will be no problem there."

Splinter, his eyes bright with fever, nodded to Donatello in gratitude.

"Still, I will need to go out later for supplies," he croaked. "We are out of some things I believe."

"Just cereal," Mikey piped up. He was still shaking from the experience of fixing breakfast under Leo's watchful eye. The pancakes had turned out nicely, though oddly shaped, and a few eggshells had found their way into a few of them, but on the whole the food had been tasty.

"We're all set for dry goods, Sensei," Raph spoke up suddenly. "You've brought back so much stuff lately, and we already had a bunch. We've got plenty of unpreschi- unpershipu- unpershisha- you know, stuff that won't spoil! I figure we got enough canned stuff to last for two or three weeks, and the rice will last a month, even if we eat it three times a day with seconds. The only things low are milk and eggs and butter, and what we got can last three days tops."

Splinter looked at Raphael with pride mixed with wonder.

"You inventoried all of this on your own, my son?"

"Yep. We knew you'd worry, so I checked the foods and Don checked the medicines," and he said it without bragging-- an even bigger surprise to his brothers than it was to Splinter. Splinter smiled his approval on these sons of his.

"So, see? You don't need to go out for a while," Leo said, fussing with the blanket. "Everything is okay."

Splinter sighed though, wishing it were so simple. There were still other things that had to be looked after. With all the rain that had been taking place topside, Splinter had been checking the area to make sure nothing would impede the flow of extra water. He wanted to be sure that their home would be free of flood, as well as make sure that the surface dwellers had no reason to come that far to repair anything.

But Leo had read his mind.

"I've already checked, Sensei," he said without being asked a question. "Right now the water is only a bit higher than usual in the channel outside the door. I watched it for fifteen minutes and nothing acted like it was backing up anywhere or moving faster than normal at this time. Me and Raph are gonna go out later and just check the immediate area, if that is okay."

Splinter shook his head, which was aching again with such pain.

"No, my sons," he rasped out. "I do not think you should go out of the lair alone. I will bundle up and come with you-- you have only gone that far with me, I do not like the idea of your going alone."

A sudden coughing fit startled the Turtles. It startled Splinter as well-- he'd felt the itchy beginnings of such irritation earlier, but had mastered it until now. Donatello was quick to offer him a soothing cup of tea and medicines, and after a few moments he got it under control.

"It's okay, Sensei," Leo insisted. "Raph and I won't go farther than the out of bounds areas, we both promise. If anything bad is happening, we'll come get you! But please stay in bed! We can do this!"

Splinter was going to protest, but his throat refused to allow him to speak at that point. Sighing in frustration, he reluctantly nodded his agreement. He suddenly wanted to lay down and sleep. But how could he? They needed milk and eggs and the water might back up suddenly, and...

Then he was aware that four young voices were urging him to lay down; four pairs of hands were covering him up snugly. Four concerned faces were beaming reassurances at him as they confidently told him to don't worry, they had everything under control.

Then four loving sons, united in their concern, tiptoed out of the bedroom and assembled in the kitchen.

And once again became four quarrelsome brothers, stressed by their fear.

"Don, you and Mikey take care of Sensei while Raph and I are gone," Leo needlessly ordered as they found flashlights and rope "--in case one of us falls in again."

"I didn't fall that time, you pushed me," Raph hotly replied, stung by the reminder.

"Jeeze, Leo, what would we do without you to tell us what to do?" Don sarcastically said, causing Mikey to laugh.

"Look, we agreed to not get into arguments," Leo reminded them, sensing that this was about to turn into one. "So just do as you're told and be quiet."

Don inhaled sharply. He suddenly did not like Leo's authoritarian tone, or Leo's assumption that he was in charge. Sensei hadn't put anyone in charge!

"Look here, Leonardo!" Don snapped loudly, getting angry. "You're not the boss of me, get it? I will take care of Sensei 'cause he's our father, not 'cause you're my brother!"

Leo, wondering what the heck had upset Don, nevertheless couldn't let it go.

"I'm the oldest, and I'm the one he usually leaves in charge, and don't you start yelling at me, Donatello!"

"Is everything all right, my sons?" came the hoarse call from the other room. They realized that their voices had carried to their father, perhaps waking him up.

"Everything's all right, Sensei!" Raph called back, suppressing his laughter at the two quarreling brothers. Usually it was him in trouble for getting into a scrap; it amused him that Mr. Perfect Leo and Mr. Brainac Don were the ones to be going at it!

"Yes, Sensei! Sorry, Sensei!" Don and Leo, still facing each other as if they were going to spar, cheerfully called to their father. Then, still in unison, they whispered angrily to each other, "I owe you one!


	3. Chapter 3

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Hey! This is not the end! The end of the chapter sounds like the end, but it's not the end-- though maybe it should be I guess. Sigh. Anyway, this is not the end so don't be fooled!

TMNT are owned by Mirage. Can someone explain to me why, having eaten a tasty dinner of Kung Pao Trio several hours ago, I am now craving pizza with green peppers? Must be a Mikey influence!

"Looks okay here," Leo said to Raph, as they played their flashlights along and over the opening leading to the junction. They'd carefully made their way along the dark, damp, eerie tunnels, drips from the unseen roof wetting them with cold shivers that trickled down their necks to the exposed parts of their bodies between shell and plastron, then sluicing off to the left or right, working their chilly ways down either side of their bodies to drip once again from the edge of their shells to the ground. The sensation was like being tickled in a very unpleasant way, and neither one felt like laughing. No matter how long they'd been out there, no matter how many of those dank, sour-smelling, icy drips hit them and trickled down repeatedly in the same manner, they could not get used to them; they could not tune them out, and yard after dank and dripping yard they shivered involuntarily, wishing to be back in their safe, dry lair.

The combined beams of their lights lit upon the swirling mass of water as it was channeling off through the various exits. Nothing seemed to be backed up; every outlet did not seem to be refusing its share of the run-off from the surface.

Nondescript things floated and bobbed in the water, but nothing looked dangerous. The brothers silently agreed to return and check out the tunnel in the opposite direction; in the direction that led past their home, through more dark tunnels and pipes, until it emptied its roiling mass of liquid into yet another, lower level junction, to be carried away to who knew where.

More drips tickled them, making each one squirm in discomfort and not a tiny bit of fear. Who knew what was being carried onto their bodies in the icy cold relentless drips from the ceiling. Each had been sick before from the sewers, as well as regular colds and flu-- each was not looking forward to the possibility of being bedridden once again with little control over their bodies, aching and vomiting and crying with the pain in their head or their ears or their tummies.

The echoes of those drips, the strange gurgling sounds, and the various noises of running water, of unseen trash bumping into the sides of the channels or each other-- of indeed the magnified sounds of their own footsteps and wispy breathing-- did not bother them one bit. Indeed, they welcomed the sounds as if they were guardians. It was strange, but if they could hear those sounds, then that meant that no one-- or thing-- could hear them over all that noise. In the dark, carefully shielding their lights for fear of some nameless city worker being down there for reasons unknown, they welcomed the noises that filled their ears; after all, these were the sounds of their babyhood, and they knew them as well as the sound of Splinter's voice. Yet they kept their hearing tuned for anything that didn't sound like the familiar song of the sewers that they were used to. They kept alert for the sound of humans.

"I am first in the tub when we get home," Raph softly asserted as they neared the end of this particular section. They had gone farther than they'd promised, far past the out-of-bounds that Splinter had set for them once he'd started allowing them to roam short distances from the lair.

Leo frowned in the dark-- he kicked himself mentally for not calling dibs first.

"I thought you only liked the shower anyway," he hopelessly tried, but Raph snorted in mirth.

"I'm tired of water dripping on me," he laughed. "I wanna sit in the tub and soak all this cold ice water off of me.

Leo sighed. He knew that Raph would be in the tub for ever, and he also wanted to soak away the dirt and the cold and the fear of illness.

This end seemed to be working as it should as well. The two carefully studied the situation as Sensei had taught them, then turned grateful feet towards home.

"Race you," Raph challenged, taking off in spite of the dark and the cold and the slippery conditions.

"Hey, Raph! No fair!" Leo protested, trying to catch up to the lead that Raph had opened between them.

Raph laughed derisively at his brother, as he made his way easily in the dark back to the lair, dodging or jumping over various pipes and uneven flooring.

"I'm gonna catch you!" Leo, throwing caution to the wind, shouted in challenge, and kicked up his speed, narrowing the gap between himself and Raph.

He was within several yards when he misstepped and, losing his balance, fell splash into the rushing current!

"Raph!" was all he had time for before he found himself being swept back the way they'd just come. His flashlight had flown from his hands, and the dark swallowed him up as effectively as the water was about to.

The beam from Raph's flashlight was chasing madly after him, and he kept his head above the water, focusing on that light, trying to use it to see if there were any handholds nearby. His hands vainly grasped the side of the channel, but the slime-coated surface made it almost impossible to grab for longer than it took to scrape the skin from his palms.

The beam was closer. Now Leo could see Raph's face, a mask of determination and fear, as he gained on his brother, trying to work the rope he had been carrying with one hand from his shoulder and into a position to toss it to Leo.

The sound of the drop-off was growing in Leo's ears, but he kept the panic to a minimum, concentrating on that flashlight beam, that hand that was getting ready to toss the rope. He kept his back to the approaching drop-off, and willed Raph to throw the rope accurately.

With a desperate yet powerful swing, Raph, still running, snaked the rope out to Leo, who grabbed hold on the third try-- his fingers were so cold, he couldn't feel them move, and he had to look to see if he'd managed to hang on.

"Got it!"

Raph immediately stopped running, and, dropping the flashlight, braced his legs and pulled on the rope.

Leo quit moving, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for long. With the combined effort of Raph's pulling and Leo's kicking of legs and hauling of himself on the rope, he was able to make it to the edge where Raph, taking a desperate chance, suddenly freed one hand and reached out, grabbing Leo by the edge of his carapace. The effort knocked the legs from under him, but he only slid a tiny bit, and held on for dear life.

Then Leo was out of the water, and in his brother's arms.

They sat like that for several minutes in the weak light of the flash lying nearby, holding on to each other, shivering from the cold and the delayed reaction, trying to catch their breaths, trying to keep from crying.

Leo finally managed to stand up and helped Raph do the same.

"I owe you one," is all Leo said, and they slowly made their way back home.

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"How are you feeling now, Sensei?" Mikey asked as he handed Splinter the cup of tea and medicines that Don had brewed.

"Mikey, you asked him that ten minutes ago," Don sighed, as he sat down in the old rocking chair, wishing that Mikey would go away so he could take care of Sensei in peace. "We need to be quiet Mikey, so Sensei can rest."

"It is all right, Donatello," Splinter assured his son in his hoarse voice. Mikey couldn't bear the sound of this new voice-- he wanted his father's old voice back.

"Maybe if you ate some honey, that would bring it back," he had suggested earlier, and Don just could not convince him that the way to bring Sensei's normal voice back was to let him rest it.

But Mikey, though he hated this new voice, insisted on hearing Splinter talk. He had become obsessed with hearing Sensei reply to every little question he could think of; he was almost desperate in his desire to maintain this kind of contact, and Donatello was going crazy trying to stop him.

Splinter was feeling better than earlier, but the throat, though not sore, was still hoarse. He smiled inwardly at the way both his sons approached this business of caring for father. He understood, he thought, why Michelangelo needed these verbal ties. He also understood Donatello's growing frustration. He hoped that the idea that had come to him would take care of both problems.

"Michelangelo," he rasped out, and Mikey quickly turned all his attention to his father. "I am rather bored. I would love for you to read me a story, if you do not mind."

Mikey's face exploded with unexpected joy, and before Splinter or Donatello realized it, the young turtle had burst from the room as if he'd been called to dinner, and returned just as quickly with as many comics and other books as he'd been able to grab in the haste of the moment.

Ignoring Donatello's protests, he eagerly climbed into bed with Splinter, making himself comfortable against the pillows that propped up the rat, and eagerly began to sort through the multitude of reading material he'd managed to retrieve.

"What do you want to hear?" he was chattering, so eager to do this thing that Splinter had no time to reply-- just as well, for his voice had given out on him again. But Splinter didn't mind; this was turning out the way he had hoped. Michelangelo, preoccupied with reading to his father, would not expect or require Splinter to constantly respond to every query. "Do you want to hear one of these tall tales? No, those are boring, I should have got the other book. I know! Comics! Only some of the words are hard, and besides, the pages are missing-- dumb Raph! He took the best ones out of these just to make me mad, you know! I owe him one for that. Oh! I know! I can read you this one! It's my very best favorite one!" And he opened a book of Japanese fairy tales (translated into English) and began on his very best favorite one called "The Eighty-One Princes".

He read the story with great enthusiasm if not great skill, but though he would ask Splinter many questions, he didn't require any answers-- he was focussed on something he loved almost as much as Sensei: reading! It didn't matter if he had trouble, he worked hard and diligently to perfect his storytelling skills, and he attacked each difficult word as if it were the fiercest of enemies to be engaged and subdued without mercy!

In the rocking chair, Donatello began to see the reason Splinter had requested a story. Mikey read for over an hour, one fairy-tale after another, and though he assailed his father with more questions than Don could count, Splinter had yet to answer one of them. Mikey was happy. Splinter was happy.

Don was just a tad jealous.

Sitting in the old rocking chair, it had never occurred to him to join Splinter and Mikey on the bed-- he had sat there, envy at the sight of his brother and Sensei sitting together slowly growing like a small flame, like a small and unnoticed flame that grew until he suddenly realized that he was angry at Mikey-- angry that Mikey and Sensei were so cozy on the bed, reading stories, while he sat in the old rocking chair, waiting for the time when he would brew some more tea and medicines to soothe Sensei's throat and ease Sensei's pain.

As he sat there, rocking back and forth, thinking these suddenly clear thoughts of jealousy, he realized that Splinter was looking at him, waiting to make eye contact.

He looked into his father's eyes-- and his jealously vanished as if water had been poured over a flame. He looked into his father's eyes, and saw that he had been waiting for him to come join them; indeed, Don thought that he could see disappointment in them, that he hadn't come over sooner.

Splinter smiled, and Don found himself moving out of that chair and onto that bed in a heartbeat, snuggling in on the other side of his father, while Mikey, oblivious to everything except the lure of the written word, was retelling with great gusto the story of "The Bamboo Princess".

This is where Raph and Leo, wet and cold and bruised and battered, found everyone when they'd finally dragged home. Splinter was awake, cradling a sleeping Don and Mikey. He smiled at the appearance of his other two sons-- then grew concerned as he saw their condition.

"It's okay, Sensei," Leo quickly said before they could be questioned. "We just had a careless accident. We're okay. The junctions and sewers seem to be working well for the moment. We checked both ends, and we're sure that nothing is clogging the system."

"We're gonna go take a bath, okay Sensei?" Raph said hurriedly, for Splinter looked as if he were going to find a way to untangle himself from the sleeping sons in order to deal with the awake ones. "We're kind of cold. We'll come back in here when we're done. Do you need anythin' before we go?"

Splinter, mindful of his voice, merely shook his head, but both sons could read the expression in his eyes, the message in his face-- they owed him an explanation, and they'd better have it after their bath.

The two older turtles filled the large tub with water as hot as they could stand it. They sluiced themselves with buckets in the shower area, and washed each other's backs as they tried to get the grime and slime and unseen contaminates from their bodies. Rinsing the final traces of soap from themselves, they gratefully sank into the tub together, and let the hot water soak away the last of the adventure they'd just had.

"You're gonna need bandages on them hands," Raph pointed out, as Leo lazily examined the skinned palms.

"Yeah. Later. Thanks, Raph."

"Any time, Leo."

Splinter, a half hour later, found them still in the tub, sleeping against each other. He had managed to put Donatello and Michelangelo to bed for their naps, and now he had come to the bathroom for other business-- and to find his older sons, who had yet to explain themselves.

Sighing, he drained the tub, and one by one wrapped them in towels, dried them as best as he could, and put them in their beds where they could finish their impromptu naps.

Glancing at all four, he smiled in spite of his headache, his coughing, his hoarse throat, and his fever.

"I owe you all one," he whispered, and went back to his own room to get some rest.


	4. Chapter 4

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Thanks, Machias Banshee, for beta reading this for me!

TMNT are the property of Mirage, but guess what! They said I could borrow them for this fiction! Honest! I wouldn't lie-- why are you staring at my nose? You act like it's growing or something...

After they'd all awaken from their unplanned naps, they'd gathered once again in Sensei's room, only to be witness to a sight that had never before been seen by them-- except when it had happened to each other!

Splinter had been sick to his stomach!

He had tried to get up and make it to the bathroom, he had tried to shield his sons from this sudden attack. One minute he had been drinking the broth that Don and Mikey had brought from the kitchen, the next he was on his knees in the hallway, trying to keep from scaring his sons any further as he emptied what little was in his stomach.

As he cleaned the mess himself, denying his sons the gruesome task that they begged for (with startled and fearful tears in their eyes), he took particular care to assure Don and Mikey that it had NOT been the broth.

"I must have the flu instead of a cold, my sons. Please do not be alarmed," he calmly croaked out, finally done with the cleaning and allowing his sons to guide him back to bed. "I would appreciate a cup of tea and some toast. Nothing else will be needed."

So now it was just Leo and his chrome nemesis.

Leo and the toaster warily eyed each other, preparing for the latest match. Each was on guard for any dirty tricks the other might be planning in this latest encounter.

Leo could feel that the toaster was planning something; exactly what, he had no idea, though he was sure of the outcome-- burnt toast.

Unless, of course, he bested it at its own game!

He was here for a specific task, and he was going to perform it come what may!

"I'm ready for you," he whispered fiercely, and with a sudden shout of "eeee-YAH!" he launched his attack, leaping in a beautiful spin towards the startled machine, neatly dropping the two slices of bread into the slots, and plunging down the bread lifter switch with all the determination and confidence of a highly trained ninja!

He stood there, panting in adrenaline reaction to this terrifying encounter, keenly aware that he had managed to deposit the slices of bread he'd specially chosen for his father's evening meal into the gleaming monster without a struggle-- he had surprised the toaster into inaction, and had been victorious! He stood there, slowly realizing his victory, and waited for the moment when the golden, nicely crisped pieces of toast would pop up and allow him to butter them for Sensei's dinner.

No smoke! Ye-haa! It wasn't burning! Leo had won! He waited in anticipation for the solid proof of his victory! This would show them! This would show them all! He had defeated this evil device, he had successfully made toast for his father! He was now on equal footing with his brothers!

"Well done, my son!" Master Splinter would say when he presented him with the fait accompli. Mikey would look at him with little brother admiration, Don would congratulate him on being so technically savvy, and Raph would take back all those unkind things he'd said about Leo being afraid!

"You're not afraid, Leo! You are the bravest of the brave!" Raph would say in awe. "I always knew it! I'm sorry I was so mean!"

Five minutes later-- no smoke!

But no toast.

Leo began to worry.

Ten minutes.

No smoke, no smell of burning toast whatsoever!

But still no toast.

"Leo! Where is Master Splinter's toast?" Raph called from the other room. "Don't tell me ya burned it again!" and the laughter was like being cut with glass.

"Naw, we coulda smelled it by now," Mikey rubbed salt in his wound.

Why wasn't this stupid toaster popping up the golden, nicely crisped pieces of toast for him to butter for Sensei's dinner?

Don finally came into the kitchen to find out what was happening.

"I put it in!" Leo rounded on his brother, emotion threatening to override his big brother persona of being in control. "I put it in and pushed down on the handle! It's not burning, but why won't the toast come out?"

Don, looking at the toaster, seemed to be suppressing some sort of sudden coughing attack-- great! thought Leo, Don's catching Splinter's cold.

"Don, are you okay?" he asked worriedly. Don, still smothering this apparent coughing fit, waved at Leo as if to say yes, nodding his head at the same time-- but now his body was beginning to shake in spasms that added to Leo's fear that Don was unable to breathe!

"Donny! What's wrong? Are you sick? Donny?"

Don's eyes were leaking tears now, and he sounded as if he were going to choke to death from this unknown illness that he'd picked up from their father. Leo imagining the worst, ran to the bedroom of his father.

"Don's having some sort of fit!" he yelled, eyes wild with fear.

Everyone ran to the kitchen, Splinter in the lead-- only to stop short to find Don seated on the floor, laughing loudly, laughing as if he were being relentlessly tickled.

"My son," Splinter managed to say, though his voice was still hoarse and harsh. "What is the problem?"

Don, wiping his eyes, looked at Leo, and nearly rolled onto the floor with a new burst of laughter.

"The-- toaster--" he gasped, trying to share this bit of news.

"Yes, my son?"

"The-- toaster-- oh, my sides!" he gasped, looking at everyone but Leo. "Leo! The toaster is unplugged!"

Leo couldn't comprehend for a few minutes why he was surrounded by all these laughing family members.

He stood there, frozen, trying to understand why Don and Raph were on the floor laughing. He was trying to work out in his mind why Mikey was covering his mouth, trying for the sake of his big brother to not be loud, but crying tears of mirth and shaking like anything.

But the harsh realization was that Sensei was chuckling.

Not loud, and not cruelly-- but he **was** chuckling.

Leo didn't remember leaving the kitchen. He did remember that he walked. He did remember that Splinter called after him in that hoarse voice he'd developed with this illness. He did remember that much.

But he didn't remember leaving the kitchen. Or the lair.

When his mind finally allowed him to remember stuff, he realized that he was sitting just outside the well hidden door to their home, sitting and staring at the dim light bulb across the way, just sitting on the cold damp floor and staring.

"My son," the rasping voice of his father sounded above him. Leo didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see his father chuckling at him. "My son, come inside please. It is cold out here."

"I don't care," he mumbled, shrugging as if it was no big deal, still not looking up at his father.

A very warm hand touched the top of his head.

"I care," Splinter said in a hoarse whisper.

Then Leo realized that he'd made his sick father come out into this cold, damp, dripping place!

He obediently rose quickly and walked with Splinter back into the lair. He tried to go to his own room, but Splinter's hand was now firmly on his shoulder, and he found himself being guided into Splinter's room, where Sensei closed the door against the prying brothers. He guided Leo over to the old rocking chair and settled himself into it. Leo still didn't look at his face, but he could see that Splinter was well-wrapped in a blanket against chills-- and he felt tears of guilt sting his eyes.

He'd acted like a baby and made his father come get him!

First the toast, now this! Splinter would probably never get better 'cause of him!

He let Splinter pull him up onto his lap. He wouldn't look at him-- he didn't want to see him chuckling at him-- but he curled up in Splinter's lap and allowed him to protect him from the world with those fatherly arms, allowed him to rock him away from all the hurt.

Splinter knew why Leonardo was avoiding looking at him, and he smiled and shook his head at his foolish son-- and at his foolish self.

"Leonardo," he said softly so as not to strain his voice. "I am sorry that I laughed in the kitchen. I was not making fun of you. I swear it."

Leo, still hunched against his father, shrugged as best he could in a it doesn't matter sort of way.

"Leonardo, I was not laughing at you to make fun of you," Splinter insisted, holding him as close as he could. "I laughed because you are my joy. You four are my joy, my treasure. You four make me laugh; you have made me laugh from the moment I found you all as babies. You four make me glad."

Leo, suppressing a sniffle, tried to work this out.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "I messed up and you all laughed at me. How is that not making fun of me?"

"Well, I am afraid that your brothers **were** making fun of you," Splinter smiled, carefully keeping the chuckle out of his voice. "But be honest my son-- you, too, have done similar to your brothers."

Leo, frowning, recalled that this indeed was true. He could remember many times when he'd laughed at something stupid each of his brothers had done.

Had it hurt them as much as this had hurt him?

How could he have been so cruel to his brothers-- even Raph?

"But you-- you laughed--"

"And I hurt your feelings, and for that I am sorry," Splinter hugged him warmly. "But my son, you tend to take so many things seriously. Sometimes I worry that you take too much too seriously. The toaster is one of these things. Yes, I laughed at the realization that you had mastered your 'fear' of the toaster, only to find that the toaster had been unplugged. It was rather ironic in a way."

"I'm not afraid of the toaster," Leo insisted.

"Leonardo."

Leo sniffled.

"Well... maybe a little," he finally admitted, and this time he didn't mind hearing his father chuckle.

"My son, what happened was funny. But it does not mean that I think you are a failure, or that your brothers are better than you-- or that I do not love you. I am sorry that your feelings were hurt by me," and now Leo looked up at the smiling face of his father, and saw the gleam in his eye. "But you must admit, it was humorous!"

And he smiled so beautifully and mischievously at this eldest son, that Leo simply had to smile back-- and then he hugged his father tightly.

Splinter was right, he thought, as they rocked in silence for a few minutes-- he'd been so worked up in "battling" the toaster-- only to find out it was unplugged!

It **was** funny!

And Leo laughed at himself. It was a little laugh; a little laugh that grew a bit stronger when he heard his father's own gentle chuckle answering it.

Then they both laughed aloud, and Leo kissed Sensei on the cheek, and got down from his lap.

"I guess I'd better go plug in the toaster and get your dinner now," he smiled, heading for the door.

"There is no need, my son. Raphael has taken care of it."

Leo froze-- Raph had already made Splinter his toast?

For some reason, that touched a tiny nerve somewhere in Leo's pride.

**And** sparked an until now forgotten conversation!

Raph? Raph! Raph had been the one to convince him to confront the toaster in the first place.

Just after Splinter had been sick to his stomach, and had said that all he required was more tea and some buttered toast, Raph had taken Leo aside and convinced him that this was his opportunity to prove that he could face this toaster fear of his.

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"After all," Raph had said seriously, driving home the point, "you never even cried or screamed or lost it at all when you fell in that current today, and you coulda been killed! Yet you was brave the whole time! You can't keep bein' scared of the toaster."

Raph! Raph unplugged the toaster! It had to be Raph!

"What did you say, my son?" Splinter, still in the rocking chair, interrupted Leo's thoughts, startling him back to the "now".

"Oh? Nothing Sensei!" he said cheerfully. "I'll go help the guys with our dinner. Can I get you anything?"

"No, my son, I require nothing at the moment."

Leo, grinning in relief, left, safe in the belief that Splinter had not heard what he'd uttered to himself regarding his brother.

But Splinter, smiling, had heard what Leo had muttered under his breath:

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**"Raph, I owe you one!"**


	5. Chapter 5

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No time! I'm late for work! This is kind of long and less action. Sorry! Thanks to everyone who has been sending me such nice reviews and suggestions and stuff! TMNT are MIRAGE. I am LATE!

"Leo, leave me alone! I didn't unplug the toaster! Jeeze, give it a rest already!"

They were washing the dishes from their simple dinner that Mikey had made with their help-- it was his and Sensei's creation, made from rice, gravy, leftover chicken, peas, onions and carrots, all mixed together, which Mikey had proudly named "Chicken Jumble"-- and Leo was promising Raph that "I owe you one!" over the joke played on him before.

"Sure, Raph," Leo scoffed. "All that stuff about getting me to make the toast just so you could play a joke on me-- I owe you big time!"

Raph, roughly throwing the scrubby sponge into the dishwater in his anger, turned to his brother who was still drying the same glass he'd been drying for what seemed like five minutes.

"For the last time, if I was gonna play that kind of joke on ya, I woulda been watching from some hiding place! I didn't unplug the toaster! Just let it go, will ya? 'Sides, it was funny," he added in an undertone, and a smile on his face threatened to give way to a laugh. But he held onto it and began to wash yet another pan.

But Leo knew, he just knew, that Raph had been the one, and some how he was gonna make him pay!

"Just you wait until Sensei is better," Leo muttered as Raph dumped the last clean dish into the rinse water and, after draining and cleaning the sink, left the kitchen shaking his head.

"Yeah, whatever," he replied absently, heading to Sensei's room to see if he needed anything.

In Splinter's room, Don was looking rather worried. Mike was sitting in the rocker, feet pulled up and hugging his knees-- a sure sign he was scared.

"What?" Raph asked, suddenly nervous.

"I think he's getting worse," Don tried to whisper, but Splinter, though his eyes were closed, wasn't asleep as Raph had thought-- indeed, as all of them had thought. He forced his eyes open and motioned for Raph to come nearer.

"Yes, Sensei?" Raph was surprised by the sudden choking feeling in his throat. He sounded so alien to his own ears, with those two words.

Splinter's eyes were bright with fever, and he looked old and tired. But he was still Sensei.

"This fever is making it difficult for me to stay awake," he said softly. "I want you and Leonardo to make sure that the lair is secure tonight."

"We will, Sensei," Raph said without hesitation, without thought-- beyond a cold fear growing in the pit of his stomach.

"I mean secure!" he forcefully repeated, and Raph's stomach flipped over at the tone. He couldn't take his eyes off of Splinter's; he couldn't describe the look in them, but the fear in his stomach grew to unimaginable size.

"Hai, Sensei," he said, bowing, as if he were in the dojo, not in Splinter's room.

"Donatello," he said, turning his head to this son. "I have some herbs in the little chest in the bathroom. They are good for fever, but they need time to be prepared. Do you think you can manage if I tell you how to do it?"

"I can do whatever you want me to do, Sensei," Don managed to laugh confidently, but Raph wasn't fooled; he could tell that Don was frightened.

Now Splinter turned his gaze to Michelangelo, still huddled in the rocking chair, still looking scared.

It occurred to Raph that Mikey, normally fearless, was definitely afraid this time. As long as Raph could remember, there were only three things that could really and truly scare Mikey: scary stories (though he loved a good horror movie); the monster under the bed (which, no matter how much they kept explaining to him that, as he slept on the top bunk, he was out of danger), and illness.

"Michelangelo, it is time for you to take your bath and go to bed," Splinter said firmly.

Mikey, addressed like this, jumped as if he'd been stuck with a pin.

"Se-Sensei?" he quavered.

"It is time for bed, Michelangelo," Splinter repeated, closing his eyes as if the matter were over. "Go and take your bath now. I expect you to be in bed in one hour. Now go."

Mikey, stung by the words, looked as if he'd been punished. Why was he being singled out for a bath and bedtime?

Raph and Don weren't told to do the same-- they (with Leo, though he was out of the room) were given important grown-up things to do! Why were Raph and Don being treated like this while he was being treated like a little kid?

He slowly got out of the rocker and made his way to the bed.

"But-- but Sensei.."

"I am serious, my son," Splinter said kindly but firmly. "I want you all to go to bed early tonight. This fever is robbing me of my strength, and I want to sleep. I cannot sleep peacefully if I know you are all out of bed. You must do this for me."

Mikey's stubborn streak began to rise to the surface. It was so unfair! In actual years there was hardly any difference between them, yet he had always been considered the baby, and therefore useless in a crisis!

"Sensei, I can help you!" Mikey found himself arguing with his father. "I can help you like the guys! I can read to you! I can cook for you! I'm not a baby! I can--"

Splinter's eyes opened abruptly, and his fevered glare burned through Michelangelo as if it were a powerful beam of light!

"Michelangelo! Go take your bath! Go to bed!"

All three were stung and stunned by the force of the words.

Mikey, swallowing a few times, tears threatening to burst forth but prevented by determination, bowed stiffly to Splinter.

"Hai, Sensei," he managed without any emotion other than obedience. Without a backward glance at anyone, he left the room and made his way to the bathroom, where the sound of running water could be heard a few minutes later.

Splinter looked as if he'd done something unforgivable. He looked so sad and unhappy with himself and his action that both sons in the room wanted to cry for him, if they couldn't cry with him. They, naturally, didn't think this-- they were still so young! But the feeling was overwhelming to a couple of six-year-olds, and both knew that Splinter regretted his short temper outburst.

Sighing, he sagged against the pillows, and for a moment Don and Raph thought he'd drifted off to sleep. But he forced his eyes open and looked at Donatello.

"Bring the little chest here, along with the large cooking pot-- the one with the handle black handle. Bring the lid as well, and then we will need more water. You will help me with the medicine, then you are to take your bath and go to bed."

Don looked as if he would bring up his idea from the first night of insisting on staying, but he kept it to himself, bowed to Splinter, and then went off to get the supplies.

"Master Splinter," Raph said, and the tone of his voice shook both of them. He felt as if someone else was talking, not him. It seemed as if someone else was speaking; the voice shook with fear. "Are you gonna be all right?"

Splinter recognized this simple question for what it really was. He didn't need the quavering tone to alert him to the real question lurking in those simple words by his older son. He didn't need to see how Raphael was struggling to keep his face neutral, as if nothing were wrong, struggling to maintain that nonchalant look-- struggling with all his power, despite the slight quiver of his mouth, the slight wrinkling of his forehead.

Splinter, sick as he was, tired as he was, held out his arms and before Raph knew what he was doing, he had crawled into bed with Sensei and fiercely claimed the hug.

He could feel the fever burning in his father's body, and he held on, hoping that some of it would drain out of Splinter and into him so his father would be better.

"Do you remember, Raphael, the day you got lost?" Splinter said softly, holding him close. "Can you remember any of that day? You were only about two."

Raph, concentrating, slowly nodded.

"I can remember a little bit. I remember the light bulb and the noise I heard. I remember screaming my head off," and he laughed at that part, joined by his father.

"Yes. I was busy trying to get Michelangelo to eat the mashed carrots that the rest of you had so happily swallowed down," Splinter smiled. "Your brother was being very willful at that moment, and I allowed myself to forget while dealing with that young child, that three others needed my attention."

"I was lost, but I was only outside the lair," Raph said as if it had been a good joke. But both of them knew that it had been a frightening experience-- for both of them.

__

He had managed to open the door that Splinter would disappear behind, only to return with neat things like food and sometimes toys. He had always wanted to go behind that door to find his own things, but Splinter had always stopped him.

Now, Splinter was busy, and he was able to get the door open after much stretching and effort.

Once outside, he'd blinked in wonder at this dark, echoey place. He immediately spotted the weak light bulb that illuminated a small patch of the sewer-- bright enough to aid any city workers who might come down here, but weak enough to not reveal this special home.

He was so fascinated with the light across the way-- and the channel where the water constantly flowed was empty for once-- at least, it must have been, for he had managed to climb down into it and get to the other side to get closer to this bright (to him) thing hanging from the unseen above. At that time Splinter was just learning about electricity, and he still had a tendency to use candles in the lair-- until Mikey had set his blanket on fire playing with the "friendly light".

He could not understand how the candle was glowing from the unseen above in a round shape-- and as he stared at it in wonder and awe, he'd heard a strange noise!

Somewhere up the tunnel, a pipe had groaned from some unknown pressure. The sound echoed eerily towards him until it had surrounded him, and he turned in fear-- and realized that he couldn't see the door!

He howled louder than the groaning of the pipe that was scaring him, and Splinter, frantic with worry, found him immediately.

"I don't think I let go of you all day," Raph remembered. He wasn't quite sure, but in his mind he could see himself following Splinter all over the lair the rest of that afternoon and evening, one hand clutching the hem of Sensei's robe as if for dear life. Nothing could persuade him to let go of it. His fingers had entwined themselves into the fabric and Splinter had had to do everything that day with little Raphael following along.

"Yes. I believe you finally fell asleep, still clutching my robe," Splinter replied hoarsely, yet with a chuckle in his voice. "You certainly did not try to leave the lair after that for a long time, and for a short time after that, something would remind you of it some how, and I would have you clutching my robe again, following me all over the lair."

Splinter paused and mastered the coughing fit that suddenly burst forth. Raph kept his head pressed to Sensei's chest, willing the rat to be better.

Splinter took a few tired deep breaths as the fit subsided. He would probably be giving this illness to all his sons, but there was nothing to be done about it now, except get better before that happened.

He smiled down on this son who had held on all through the fit that had racked his body-- the son who had held on like he had that day when he had pretty much become part of Splinter's robe.

"My son, did I ever tell you how frightened I was that day? I heard the door, and I had to abandon everyone in the lair to chase after you. I still marvel at how fast you were able to get out and cross that channel. When I went outside, I could not see you, and my heart nearly stopped. Your scream of fear was the sweetest sound!"

He hugged Raphael a bit tighter.

"I will be all right, my son. It is just the flu, and you will all probably catch it now from me. But do not worry. I will not leave you. I cannot. I am holding onto all of you as tightly as you held on to me that day. You will not be rid of me."

Raph laughed, and sat up after a final hug. He could hear Don coming down the hall. From the sound of it, Leo was helping him carry stuff, and he got off the bed before his brothers could see him being mushy.

"Do me a favor, Raphael," Splinter said as the other two entered with the required materials for brewing the fever medicine. "Please make sure that Michelangelo is all right. Once I have shown Donatello how to get this medicine started, I will expect you all to go to bed."

"Hai, Sensei," Raph bowed, and he left the room a little less fearful.

But he still was holding onto Sensei's robe in his mind.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raph entered the bathroom to find Mikey in the tub. The younger turtle was just sitting there, kind of playing with the water; squirting it with his hands, watching the droplets shoot up and splash back into the tub.

Raph could tell that Mikey was unhappy. For one thing, there was no water on the floor. Mikey was a notorious bather, playing rather than washing. Usually there would be several old rubber duckies, a beat-up plastic boat, and a relatively new toy submarine that Splinter found one day while scavenging, floating around the turtle while he chattered away in many different voices, making up stories and plays and songs involving all of his "company" as he called it. It usually ended with Splinter having to mop up the bathroom so the next turtle could take a bath.

Tonight the only one in the tub was Mikey. The duckies, the boat and the submarine all sat on the floor in the corner, looking sad and dejected because their best friend hadn't invited them into the tub.

Raph had already had one bath today, but he silently got into the tub with Mikey, who pretended not to notice.

"Whatcha playin'?" he asked, starting to squirt the water with his own hands.

"Nothing."

Silence, except for the soft sound of water being played with.

"Splinter is gonna be okay, you know," Raph tried again, making a really good squirt of water arc up and land on Mikey's arm.

Mikey, usually up for a good water fight, didn't even whine in protest. He just nodded his head and continued to make little spouty fountains listlessly.

Then he suddenly splashed both hands on the surface of the water in anger.

"I'm not a baby! I can help! I can cook! We had a good dinner tonight, and Splinter didn't even have to help me! I'm not a baby!"

Raph was taken aback by the fierce tone, the forceful expression, and the lack of tears on his brother's face. Michelangelo was angry! Not pouty angry, or crying angry-- this was-- this was-- Raphael angry!

He sat there, breathing hard after this outburst, daring Raph to say anything to contradict him. He was waiting for Raph to tease him or belittle him or argue with him-- and when he does, I'm going to let him have it good! he thought to himself. He sat there, staring a challenge at his holder, bigger brother.

Raph squirted a few more fountains into the air and watched the water droplets fall gracefully back into the tub.

"You did a good job tonight, Mike," he said, not looking at this angry young brother. "How did you make up that meal?"

"I mean it, Raph!" Mikey was not to be distracted. It was as if he were looking for a fight, for a reason to be angry with someone else so he wouldn't be angry at his father.

But Raph was not going to play that game.

"Splinter knows you're not a baby, Mike. He didn't mean to be so hard. He doesn't feel well. You know how cranky we get when we have a high fever."

Mikey stared at the water, making more squirts-- but these were angry squirts-- he was so mad the water was doing its best to escape his bruising hands.

"He's not suppose ta be cranky," he muttered, and now the angry tone held the note of fear that Raph's had held earlier. "He's not suppose ta be sick. He's not suppose ta..."

He was surprised to see drops of water splashing down, as he'd quit making the angry fountains. Then he knew he was crying.

Great! Baby Mikey is crying like a baby! he thought, angry with himself now.

Raph scooted over in the tub and hugged Mikey the way Splinter had hug Raphael earlier. And Mikey held onto his brother the way his brother had held onto Splinter just a while ago.

"Mikey it will be all right," he told him simply.

Mikey looked at Raph, doubt mixed with a deep desire to trust his older sibling.

"How do you know?"

"Cause Splinter says so," Raph wisely said. "And he's never lied to us at all, has he?"

Mikey, still holding onto Raph, thought on this question for some minutes.

"No," he slowly had to agree. "He's never lied to us... except when he said mashed carrots are yummy to the tummy."

Raph laughed at the seriousness with which Mikey had uttered those words. It was said as if Mikey were still tasting that baby food from long ago.

"Come on, we gotta go to bed. We promised Splinter."

Mikey reluctantly let go and got out of the tub. As they dried off, he smiled at Raph. He was feeling much better. Yes, Sensei would be better-- Raph was right. It would be okay.

"Whatcha grinning at?" Raph asked, noticing the goofy look on Mikey's face.

"I owe you one," he said.

"Anytime."


	6. Chapter 6

__

Thanks again for all the reviews and comments! TMNT are owned by Mirage. This early-morning headache is mine and mine alone...

Splinter awoke around 11:38 PM.

He figured he'd been asleep since about after nine-- after taking some of the medicine that Donatello had prepared under his direction, he'd struggled to keep awake to ensure that his sons had actually gone to bed; indeed, he had dragged himself from his **own** bed after a half-hour, and had slowly made his way into their room just to reassure himself that they were all in tucked in and sleeping.

In the soft glow of the night light that he'd had to resort to for Michelangelo (though it was also handy for the others as well, as the lair was so incredibly dark!), he could make out the still forms of his sons as they slept.

Raphael was already softly snoring. Splinter gently eased him over on his stomach so that he would not awaken the others-- or himself-- with any sudden snorting sounds. Splinter recalled with alarming clarity one dreadful night, when they were still babies, before they'd started speaking but after they'd started walking-- they'd been sick all day, and during the night, Raphael had quit breathing after strange snorting sounds.

Still unsure about things, but acting on instinct, Splinter had flipped him over on his plastron, and everything had gone back to normal...

Well, as normal as possible, considering all the five of them had been through...

Michelangelo was clutching his teddy bear under the blanket.

Splinter remembered finding this item, and, having observed the surface dwellers' offspring holding such things, had broken his own rule about scavenging-- only bring home the things needed to ensure survival-- and had dragged the item home, working diligently to clean it so his sons could safely play with it. Surprisingly enough, the others hadn't really cared for it, but Michelangelo had attached himself to it almost at once, playing endless games with it and making it "talk" to the point of aggravating his brothers-- he would do the latter especially at night, when the "monster under the bed" had disturbed him. He would end up waking the others with his nervous conversations with "Mr. Growlly", a protective bear who kept threatening in a loud, deep voice to "kick the tail of any old monster under the bed who tries to hurt Mikey and his brothers!"

At the time Splinter had brought it home, Michelangelo was barely bigger than the bear. Now, he and Mr. Growlly were more in proportion to what a child and a toy should be. Splinter carefully tucked the two of them in, and placed a hand briefly on Michelangelo's head.

He had been so angry at Splinter!

Sensei knew that his son had resented being told to take a bath and go to bed. He would make it up to him later-- he would let him know that Sensei truly appreciated and valued his skills, and did not think of him as a baby-- though, Splinter smiled, he **was** his baby.

Leonardo was finally asleep. Splinter had held off coming in, knowing that this one from little up had been the last to fall asleep at night and the first to wake in the morning. He wondered once again if this was some foreshadowing trait of Fate-- after all, the life they would lead would be dangerous no matter what the circumstances. Of the four, Leonardo seemed to be the one that was marked to care for them all.

Oh, he had no doubts that all of them could rise to the occasion! No matter what they may perceive as his favoritism of Leonardo, **he** knew that all of them were clever and quick and would make him proud.

But he could not help but notice that Leonardo seemed the most dedicated to this lifestyle he had chosen for his four unique sons.

And then there was Donatello--

Splinter blinked, wondering if the fever had returned double fold. He stared at the shape that was supposed to be his son-- but for some reason, he was convinced that this was not he.

Warily he reached a hand out, and discovered that the blanket was bunched up around a pillow.

Splinter sighed with weariness. Not worrying, he returned to his room, where he lit a candle to push the darkness aside as he made his unsteady way to the old rocking chair, where Donatello was huddled up with a blanket, sound asleep.

He had managed to keep quiet and hidden in the dark, and Splinter, distracted by his fever and his concentrating on the entire group going to bed, had failed to notice that this little one had used his ninja training to his advantage, first fixing up his bed, then slipping past his brothers as well as Splinter to take up a job he felt was his and his alone.

Splinter carried him back to his own bed, and tucked him in, then returned to his own room and collapsed into bed, too exhausted to even cover himself properly.

That had been somewhere around 9:00.

Now it was 11:38, and somehow the blanket had been tucked around him. The candle he'd lit earlier was still burning, a friendly light in the almost inky darkness of the room, shedding enough illumination to barely reveal the huddled and sleeping shape of Donatello in the old rocking chair.

Splinter sighed wearily, got out of bed, and picked up the sleeping turtle. Immediately he sat down, heavily, on the bed, managing to keep his hold on his son while losing his balance. His legs were upset with him and reminding him that he was ill, and should not be trying to walk around at all, especially with the added weight of a stubborn yet loving child.

Somehow he found the strength to get up and once again carry this willful child back into his room, and with a mighty effort he not only got him into the top bunk, but settled him in and tucked in the blanket firmly.

"But I can help..." the young turtle barely mumbled, disturbed by the motion-- then settling back into slumber.

Splinter once again smiled at the determination of this son. Then he made his way to the bathroom for urgent business.

Back in the room, he managed in the dim light of the candle to make himself some tea and mix in a good amount of the medicine that Donatello had brewed under his supervision. He raised the cup to his lips, just beginning to sip down the bitter and sweet mixture, when he froze in disbelief: Donatello was curled up in the rocking chair!

Again!

He sank down on the bed, all strength gone from his legs.

For a moment he considered allowing this stubborn, willful child to get his way and stay all night.

But parental pride reasserted itself, and, gathering all his strength, he forced himself into a standing (and hopefully authoritarian) position.

"Donatello! Return to bed at once!" he snapped out in the best dojo voice he could muster.

Don "snored" in response, but Splinter knew that this was not genuine.

"Hamato Donatello! Return to bed **at once**!"

Donatello carefully opened one eye, peeking at his father. The look, the body language, spoke volumes.

With a defeated sigh, Don slowly got out of the old rocking chair, and slowly made his way to the door in the best imitation of a heartbroken child as he could muster. Shoulders slumped, head hung low, blanket sadly trailing behind the slow, hesitant, almost tearful steps of a forlorn and caring son, Donatello made his way to the door, slowing even more as each step brought him closer to the portal.

Splinter** almost** picked him up and put him in bed with him.

**Almost**.

Donatello, at the door, turned with one more hopeful plea.

"Father, I really could--"

But Splinter hardened his heart-- a very difficult task, as he could see the optimistic tears shining in his son's eyes, even in that dim candlelight-- and shook his head, firmly pointing in the general direction of the son's room.

He waited in that position until he was sure he'd heard the distinct sound of the upper bunk's reception of his son.

Once again he collapsed into his own bed.

More strange dreams-- he was at the beach, where the section he was visiting was "walled off" from the rest of the vast ocean. He was playing in the sand with one of his sons, while the others were daring the surf to chase them up the beach...

Donatello was telling him that he could help him keep from being so hot, and was trying to use some strange invention on all of them to keep them cool...

Then the Lair was slowly flooding because one of the tunnels had clogged up with all the recent rain debris, and Splinter was having a hard time convincing his sons to help him clean and not play in the dirty water...

And then the old rocking chair was slowly moving back and forth on its own, rocking some unseen entity who was determined to spend the night regardless of father's disapproval, regardless of how many times he was forced to return to his own bed--

Splinter opened his eyes to find that it was around one AM and that Donatello was determinedly rocking in the chair, his own eyes barely able to stay open, blanket tightly wrapped around his small frame to shield him from the dark and cold.

With a resigned sigh, Splinter got up and again stood in front of Donatello. The young turtle, in spite of extreme sleepiness, tried to meet his Sensei's gaze with determination and resolve.

Yet he couldn't resist the urge to curl into Sensei as he was picked up once again, holding onto his father as if he were moss clinging to a tree, or lichen clinging to a rock-- or a desperately concerned son clinging to a sick parent.

Clinging as if he were a son looking for love and support and reassurance from his father.

Splinter sighed, smiling in spite of his illness.

"It is all right, Donatello," he whispered, surrendering to his son's determined assault, and placed him in bed with himself, despite Splinter's illness.

And the two of them peacefully slept through the night without further interruption.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the middle of the night, Leo awoke with the bestest of bestest all

plans!

"That's it!" he whispered, a huge grin spreading over his face in the dark.

Carefully he made his way from his own bed to the old steamer trunk where the toys Splinter had found for them over the years were kept.

It was hard work in the almost pitch dark-- the gentle glow of the night light that Splinter had managed for Mikey's benefit was the only illumination the young and vengeful turtle had to guide his payback for the toaster.

Raph was always teasing him about being afraid of that devise? Well Raph had a fear as well, Leo grinned, rummaging the dark recesses of the makeshift toy chest. Raph wasn't the only one with an irrational fear...

He almost laughed aloud as his hands closed round the squishy rubbery object of his "owe you one" goal-- a large, pink, ugly plastic bug!

He still remembered how Raph had freaked out when Mikey had found this thing on his first scavenge with Splinter. Mikey had been so fascinated with it-- he was sure it was real, and that Don would absolutely LOVE it! Splinter had given in and allowed him to carefully clean it and present it to Don.

Don, always tactful, had thanked Mikey in a way that had satisfied the younger brother to no ends.

Raph, on the other hand, had locked himself in the bathroom and refused to come out until the "evil thing" had been dealt with. Splinter had to make a show of putting it in the trash, complete with narration by all three brothers, before Raph would nervously unlock the door and come out.

Mikey couldn't bear to lose this gift for Don, so he'd rescued it in the dead of night, and the fake bug had found its way into the recesses of the "toy chest", rarely to see the light of day, unless someone felt the need to put Raph in his place...

Carefully, carefully-- Leo placed the plastic horror on the pillow of Raph, and climbed back into bed, desperately trying not to laugh at the imagined outcomes of such a venture!

Leo imagined for some time the various reactions of Raph to the appearance of this six-legged horror on his pillow! Man! That was going to be so funny!

__

"AAAAHHH! Help me! Leo! Help me!" he heard him in his imagination, and Leo pictured Raph's jumping up onto the top bunk, crying like a baby! That was going to be so sweet...

Still...

It sure didn't seem funny that long ago day when the bug had first been brought home. Raph had cried a good deal, especially over the fact that he'd been so scared. It had taken Splinter a long time to calm him down...

Leo got up and retrieved the toy, tossing it back into the chest.

In bed, he tried to go back to sleep, and managed for a while-- that is, until he dreamed about the toaster--

He awoke with a start, got out of bed, found the toy bug, and placed it on Raph's pillow.

Back to bed. He fell asleep. And dreamed that Raph was freaking out so badly that Sensei had to get out of bed to see what was wrong, and fell down because of weakness and started throwing up--

Leo, bolting up in bed, took a few steadying breaths, then got up and retrieved the bug. Once again he tossed it into the chest and went back to sleep.

This time the bug was working the toaster while Leo watched in humiliation.

Leo woke up with a small cry of frustration! That was too much! He hardened his resolve, found the bug one last time, and placed it right next to Raph's head!

Then he went to the bathroom, then got a drink of water, and then got back into bed, forcing himself to stay there, watching the clock slowly crawl towards the time when they were usually awakened by Sensei-- only forty-five more minutes-- only thirty-five--

Only five--

Darn! He got up and once again made his way to the bed-- and the bug was gone! Frantically he searched with his eyes Raph's bed, but no trace of the rubber monster could be discovered!

Shaking, he got back into bed-- then couldn't stand it, and got up and woke up the brothers.

"Come on guys," he tried to sound cheerful, as he turned on the light and switched off the alarm that had just sounded. "We gotta check on Sensei."

Mikey yawned greatly, rubbing his eyes and stretching. Then he clambered down from bed and ran to the bathroom, shouting something about being first.

Raph was still snoozing. Leo for once didn't force the issue. Instead, he turned to make his own bed. He picked up his pillow to fluff it out--

and a large bug "jumped" out at him.

His scream was high-pitched, quick, and loud!

He stood there, breathing hard from the shock, feeling his racing heart slowing down-- and he heard a snicker from behind him. Turning, he saw Raph sitting up in bed, the biggest, meanest smirk imaginable on his face.

" 'smatter, Leo? Scared of a little old toy bug?" he laughed derisively. Then he hopped out of bed, quickly made it by pulling up the covers, and walked out of the room. His voice echoed back to his still startled brother.

"Hey Leo! How about some toast for breakfast?"

Leo felt the anger growing.

"I OWE YOU ONE, RAPH!"


	7. Chapter 7

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I see that my three or four chapter story is now up to seven. Sorry about that, Chief! TMNT are owned by Mirage. I own a sinus infection at the moment.

Mikey bounded into Splinter's room, carrying breakfast for his father.

"Good-morning Sensei I brought **HEY**! How come Don got to sleep in here? That's not fair!"

His cheerful greeting had turned into something Splinter had expected-- shocked betrayal! More mistreatment at the hands of his beloved father! Once again, treated like a baby!

He had skidded to a halt, the tray with the simple breakfast that he had carefully prepared for his ill father threatening to hit the floor. Leo, right behind him, managed to rescue the entire thing, and carefully set it down on the small table next to Splinter's bed. He looked at the scene, trying to keep his own jealousy from flashing through, for it was obvious that Don had gotten to stay in here all night, helping their father in his illness-- had gotten to do what any of them would have liked to have done!

He looked at the face of his youngest brother, which was threatening to either erupt in anger, or collapse in sadness.

To Mikey it was just another indication that he was not considered a valued member of this family-- he was just the baby. But before his emotions could figure out the response he really wanted to make, Splinter motioned him closer.

Reluctantly he dragged his feet towards his father, trying to look only at him and not his traitorous older brother who was sitting on the bed, still wrapped in his blanket against the morning chill of the room, holding the cup of tea and medicines that he'd been handing to Splinter when Mikey had so gleefully burst into the room with his specially prepared breakfast-- complete with tea! Tea!

He forced himself to make what he considered a noncommittal, "adult" face as he faced his father. But his eyes were fighting him, wanting to let loose with a flood that would rival the drainage junction torrent for torrent.

He stood before his father, trying to be "grown up".

"Yes, Sensei?" he managed to say as normally as possible, as if Splinter needed to talk to him regarding his kata or his latest math lesson.

"My son," he barely whispered-- his voice was almost nonexistent at the moment, but he forced himself to speak. "Will you forgive me if I let you stay here tonight?"

At that, Mikey felt such guilt, felt as if he'd been slapped in the face with such guilt! He didn't want his father to ask him for forgiveness! He was the one being naughty! He was the one being a baby!

And this added to his hurt feelings, making him even more resolved to be a "grown-up."

The conflicting emotions he felt were apparent on his face, for Splinter sighed inwardly, wishing that he'd chosen his words more carefully. He was so tired! He wanted to pick his son up and he couldn't-- this illness had robbed him of his strength. But he managed to hold his arms out and enfold this reluctant son.

Despite his tears, despite his almost naked desire to be hugged by his precious father, Mike was strangely stiff and unyielding. He returned the hug, and swallowed down all his hurt and guilt, and acted how he thought a grown-up should act.

But he was really acting cold. Splinter could tell that this one was very angry, very hurt-- but he was simply too ill to do anything about it at the moment.

"Leonardo, help me to the bathroom please," he whispered, releasing this reluctant youngest and struggling to sit up. Mikey helped him as well as Don, but only because he was trying to be an adult, like the others.

Stubborn, mistaken child!

Leaning a bit on his oldest, Splinter was able to make it to the bathroom and back to bed-- chills were shaking him and the guys helped him get covered. He felt so miserable, so helpless, and so scared.

What about the children? The food will run out. They can not forage on their own. The surface dwellers will find them, put them in zoos-- or worse, labs! They will be killed, dissected, studied and written about! I cannot allow that to happen! I must get up, find them food, keep them hidden...

"Sensei, stay in bed!" Donatello said, desperate surprise in his voice snapping Splinter back to the present. Splinter opened his eyes to find that he had partially made his way out of bed.

The clock indicated that at least an hour had passed since he'd returned to bed. His uneaten breakfast was cold on the stand, staring at him forlornly. Guilt touched his stomach, and he ate a few bites of the cold, soggy toast, the chilled scrambled eggs. The tea was also cold, but he managed to drink it all down. It was one that he had discovered in the one little shop that he had managed to gain entry to during the nights, buying what he needed and leaving money where the shop keeper could find it. That had been two years ago, and so far the shop keeper had not prevented him from returning. The tea was unique, and he rarely drank it, saving it for special occasions.

And Michelangelo had gotten it down from the cupboard, and had patiently brewed it just the way Sensei liked it.

"Master Splinter?" Leo's hesitant voice cut through his foggy mind, once again focusing him on the now. He realized that he'd been crying.

Stupid flu!

"Yes, Leonardo?" Splinter, setting down the cup, settled himself back into bed, more in control of himself.

"Are you-- nothing," he lamely finished. "Raph and I are going to check the sewers again. And I'm going to peek at topside to see if it is still raining--"

"NO!" Splinter sat bolt upright, despite fever and pain and exhaustion. "I forbid it! I will punish you severely if you do such a thing!"

"Okay!" Leo tried to soothe his father, but Splinter was on an adrenaline rush of fear, acerbated by the high fever.

"I do not want you to leave the Lair! Donatello, hand me my robe! I will stay in the living room to make sure no one leaves! They are waiting for you! They are waiting to capture you all and make you into their research papers!"

"Sensei? Sensei, I think you should take this for your fever first," Donatello gently urged his irate father to take the cup that he was holding out. Splinter, blinking, took the cup and downed it quickly.

A coughing fit shattered the stunned silence that had been produced by their father's strange outburst. Raphael, who had come in with his and Leo's gear, dropped everything and stood beside the bed, passing Splinter some cloths he kept nearby for various reasons. Now they were being used to cough anything unfortunate into.

Splinter finally gained control of his fit, and was grateful that the tea and the few bites of food had stayed down. But now he felt as if he'd been beaten with a rod. He ached all over, he was hot and weak. Breathing was difficult; his chest felt so constricted.

"You must swear to me that you will not go topside!" he barely croaked, reverting to Japanese. His eyes locked into first Raphael's, then Leonardo's. "You must swear to me, on your honor, that you will not go topside for any reason! Swear it!"

"We swear it, father," they said in unison, also in Japanese. There would be no breaking this promise! When he spoke to them in the First Language, as they called it, they knew he seriously meant business! Even Raph would not break this promise, no matter how great the temptation!

Splinter continued to study them a few seconds more; then he nodded, satisfied that they would listen to him, and he sank back down, exhausted, on the bed, and fell asleep.

Don followed the others out to the kitchen, carrying the tray that Mikey had prepared. Mike was on the couch, watching the news.

"The news?" Raph's voice reflected the stunned surprise of his other brothers. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick or somethin'?"

Mikey didn't even deign to look at his brothers, especially his traitorous older brother Don. He continued to watch the boring old yucky news. But he didn't ignore them.

"I'm watchin' because I'm a grown-up just like you guys," he said matter-of-factly. "I can watch what I want I guess, and I want to watch the news. The weather report was just on. The storms have stopped, and it's a sunny day, temperatures in the high fifties to low sixties, with winds blowing at five miles per hour from the north/northeast."

Raph shook his head as if this confirmed what he'd always thought.

"I swear, Mikey, Splinter musta dropped you on your head when he first found us. Ow!"

This last came from the punch in the Leo had suddenly given his brother at that comment. Before Raph could retaliate, he registered Leo's face, which was screwed up in a bunch of positions trying to indicate silence and don't say that and later and other stuff that he could clearly think but not silently express.

Raph, however, got the gist of it, and rubbed his arm.

"I owe you one!" he couldn't help whispering just the same.

Mikey had tensed at the comment about being dropped, but forced himself to keep watching the dreary, dumb, awful, dull news.

Leo looked at his little brother with worry, then turned to Don, who still stood there holding the tray with Splinter's breakfast on it. He, too, looked with concern at Mikey.

"You guys gonna be okay while we're gone?" Leo asked him.

"Huh? Oh, sure! Don't fall in this time," he managed to tease, and easily ducked the blow that Leo had launched at him. Then he went into the kitchen and started cleaning up.

Leo and Raph took one more look at Mikey. The news was over-- yet he was changing to some boring talk show where funny looking surface dwellers discussed Important Stuff-- not a cool talk show where the audience laughed and the hosts talked about their children and interviewed movie stars.

"Well, see you in a little while," Leo said. Mikey, still focused on this boring, dumb, stupid discussion about the price of oil, merely waved absently at his brothers.

"Be careful," he said, eyes glued to the set-- like a grown-up.

With a final shake of their heads, the two moved out to inspect the tunnels.

In the kitchen, Don looked at the dishes that needed to be done. It was his and Mikey's turn, but somehow he felt that perhaps reminding his brother of this might start a fight. So he dragged one of the little stools that they used to help them reach stuff over to the sink and began the washing up.

He was ten minutes into it when Mikey dragged the other stool over and took up his chore of drying and stacking.

"I can do it alone if you want to keep watching TV," Don offered. "After all, you fixed breakfast."

"I can still do my chores. I'm not a baby," he calmly replied, still not looking at Don. They continued in silence.

"Look, I kept sneaking into the room last night," Don tried to explain, but Mikey wasn't interested.

"It's no big deal, Don," he said, and Don really could tell that Mikey was upset-- he usually only called him "Don" when he was mad. The rest of the time he called him "Donny". "You got to stay, and that was good. You know how to make medicines. Like a grown-up. It's no big deal, just a fact."

Yet Don could see from the corner of his eye the dark expression that kept trying to take over Mikey's face, trying to push aside the "grown-up" face he'd been maintaining since this morning.

They finished the dishes in silence. Mikey put them away, while Don swept the kitchen and wiped the table.

Don cleaned their bedroom by himself, while Mikey did the bathroom. They both then straightend up the living room, but neither one spoke to the other. Don was too nervous to; Mikey was too grown-up to.

Then Don went to check on Splinter.

He was awake now, and looking a bit better than earlier; more lucid, more relaxed.

"How are you feeling, Sensei?" he asked, climbing up on the bed to feel his head. Splinter smiled at this-- as miserable as he felt, it tickled him to see Donatello acting like he was the parent.

Then he thought of Michelangelo, remembering the hurt feelings of earlier.

"I believe that I am doing a little better my son," he said, voice back for the moment. "I think that the medicines we made are helping. But we will need to make some more. I fear that you will all come down with this illness before I am recovered."

"Oh, we'll be okay," Don replied offhandedly, jumping down and getting everything ready to start making the next batch. As he watched this little son doing what he himself should be doing, Splinter felt guilt.

This is not the way it is supposed to be, he thought, sighing. The children should not be taking care of the parent.

Michelangelo came in at that moment with a fresh cup of hot tea, and carefully offered it to Splinter.

"How are you feeling, Sensei?" he asked-- in his "grown-up" tone of voice, not as the anxious son from the day before, the anxious son who bubbled with joy even as he worried about his father's illness.

This inquiry was a polite nothing-- but Mikey thought that it was so "adult". He didn't realize that he was being what he professed he wasn't-- a "baby".

"I am feeling much better now that you have come to see me," Splinter said, gratefully sipping the hot fragrant tea. "Ah, that is soothing to my throat. How did you know I was longing for a cup?"

Mikey shrugged.

"I just figured. Is there anything else I can do for you, Sensei?"

Splinter smiled inwardly. If Michelangelo wanted to play this way, perhaps he would let him.

Or perhaps he would try to crack him, to bring back his son from yesterday and rid himself of this "grown-up" Michelangelo!

"Yes. Stay a while and talk with me," he responded. "I miss seeing you."

Mikey kept his face carefully straight and noncommittal. He looked around, and as the old rocking chair was the only place to sit (besides the bed), he with great difficulty dragged it close to the side of the bed, climbed into it, and crossed his legs-- which barely hung over the edge.

"Well, what shall we talk about?" Michelangelo asked, staring up at the ceiling in thought. "I could tell you about the price of oil."

Splinter looked at his son, wondering if this were a joke.

"You could?"

"Yes. I was watching this very interesting discussion on the television," Mikey nodded wisely. "Oil is going to cost a lot they say, because of the tensions in the Middle East."

Splinter, recovering from the slight shock at the topic of this conversation, played along.

"Indeed?" he asked, making his voice sound concerned. "That is not very good news I fear."

Mikey nodded in agreement.

"Yes, it concerns me a lot. And there may be a shortage as well, due to all this tension. That will drive the prices sky high, and they might have to ration it."

"True. That would be very unfortunate."

"Especially for this family," Mikey replied with great concern. "After all, if the price goes up too high, how can we afford to buy any?"

"That would be a problem," Splinter said gravely.

"I mean, look at all the popcorn we have! If we can't get enough oil to pop it with, what will we eat when we watch movies on TV?"

Splinter picked up one of the rags that Raphael had handed him earlier in the morning and held it to his mouth, coughing loudly to cover up his laughter.

At the coughing, Michelangelo the adult suddenly became Mikey the child, and without thinking he jumped from the chair to the bed, rubbing Sensei's back and saying it would soon be over, just as Sensei had done with him many. many times in the past, until the fit stopped.

Then without warning, Splinter grabbed Michelangelo into a hug, and before the "grown-up" could return, he tickled the child until his laughter rang out, filling the room with that heart-pleasing sound. Don, hearing it, laughed as if he were being tickled as well, and felt a great lightening of his mood. It had bothered him that Mikey was mad at him for last night.

"Oh, my son," Splinter said, tired but happy, cuddling the newly returned child. "I am sorry that your feelings were hurt by what happened last night. You are a great help to me, just as your brothers are. None of you are less that the others. How many times must I say that?"

Mikey looked into his father's feverish eyes, and then snuggled in close, hugging him tightly.

"I'm sorry I acted like a baby today," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry I made you worry. And I'm sorry I got mad at Don. And I'm **really** sorry I watched that boring old show! I hope they were wrong about the oil!"

"Do not worry about the oil for the popcorn," Splinter said. "I will make sure that we never run out. I swear it."

"So, you're not mad at me anymore?" Don asked as he brought over a cup of medicine for their father. Mikey, snug in the crook of Splinter's arm, shrugged with a grin.

"Naw, I guess not," he admitted. Then his face did darken just a bit.

"But I **still** owe you one!" he couldn't help adding.


	8. Chapter 8

__

Okay, he's going to get better soon. I can't keep him sick forever. Also-- sorry about the length of this one. TMNT are the property of Mirage. I own the laptop this was written on.

Mikey carefully poured out the last of the milk into the four waiting glasses, trying to get every possible remaining drop from the container. When he was certain that it was finally gone, he threw the empty carton in the trash, then eyeballed the four glasses carefully, making sure that the last of this precious liquid had been divided as evenly as possible.

One glass looked just a bit too low, and another appeared to have a bit more than the others-- with great care and precision, not to mention experience in living with three brothers, Mikey skillfully made the adjustment, and each glass finally had the same amount.

Of course, the "same amount" pretty much was a half a glass of milk per turtle!

Mikey sighed, dreading to have to tell Sensei that the milk was finally gone. Splinter had worried over it the past few days, as his illness seemed to grow worse.

They had assured him that things were fine. They had been rationing the milk, and Raph's original estimate of it lasting three days had been stretched out two extra days. But rationing can only go so far, and now they were going to down the last of the all-important, vitamin-filled, "strong bones-strong teeth-strong shells", tasty milk.

Mikey sighed, and called his brothers in to breakfast.

The eggs had run out the day before, and even if he'd had any left, this was the last of the milk, so he couldn't make pancakes. Today was half a glass of milk, and sweet rice. Mikey had remembered how Splinter had made the rice sweet for a treat, so he figured it would cheer up their breakfast.

There was still frozen meat, but Mikey had never cooked meat on his own. Splinter always took care of that part, and the Chicken Jumble they'd had that first night was made from the leftover chicken that Splinter had made before he'd gotten so sick. They could do without the meat.

There was plenty of canned and dry food to last them for many weeks, as Raph had said. They could have spaghetti with plain sauce for a meal. Soups would be the order of the day as well, helped out with rice instead of bread-- that, too, had finally given out, and this concerned Mikey the most; it was the only thing Splinter had been truly able to eat without throwing it up.

"Milk's gone," Mikey informed the brothers as they sat down to breakfast.

"Well, we did a good job of making it last this long," Don said, but he eyed his glass regretfully. He loved milk as much as the others, but he was reluctant to swallow what was going to be the last of it for some time.

He looked at his little brother. Mikey, too, seemed to be contemplating the future without milk, as he gazed at his own few swallows waiting in his glass.

Don remembered Splinter telling them how they had gotten their love for milk. It was a food they didn't remember **ever **being without from little up. They may have had to eat less than fresh foods on occasion, leftovers and thrown away stuff scavenged from the trash bins of restaurants and grocery stores-- sometimes they might have nothing at all to eat-- but milk had always been plentiful and good and tasty and new.

__

Mikey was the main reason they'd all been introduced to milk in the first place. Splinter somehow knew that, living underground as they were forced to, the turtles would be deprived of natural vitamins that they would under normal circumstances absorb from the sun and such. He'd observed the children of surface dwellers drinking this stuff, both before and after he was mutated, and after the turtles had started to grow, he learned all he could about nutritious foods. Scavenging out of trash cans had been fine when he was a normal rat, and in the beginning when he'd first found them, but he needed good food for his growing sons.

That was when he'd started visiting the dumpsters behind local groceries, risking himself by foraging among the produce and damaged packages that the owners couldn't sell and wouldn't give away to the homeless, trying to find anything he could turn into suitable "baby food" for his hungry children. But milk was one item he knew he could not scavenge-- what he did find was sour, old, and (trusting his instinct) dangerous.

Mikey had been the smallest for as long as they could remember, and Splinter worried because he didn't seem as strong as the brothers. When he suspected that Mikey's bones and shell were soft, he had made a daring decision-- in the dead of night he put on an old coat, a pair of pants, gloves, and hat-- clothes he would wear when scavenging topside in the dumpsters-- took some of the money he'd been finding while hunting for food and supplies, and braved his way into an all-night grocery.

It was a terrifying first experience for the rat. Fortunately the place was deserted, and the clerk was sleepy and didn't bother to even make eye contact with him, but he still feared this venture as he purchased the large jug of milk and four small glasses with little animals printed on them. His heart raced a mile a minute as he put out the money and waited with growing dread for the clerk to make change, his ears sensitive to every little sound: the ice machine suddenly humming louder; the "ching" of the cash register; the scrape of the door opening, and the sound of several late-night revelers coming in to buy more beer for their evening celebrations.

And the clerk had been slow slow slow!

But Splinter got his change and forced himself to leave at a normal, unconcerned pace, and walked casually across the street-- until he got to the alley that had the manhole he'd come up through in the first place! Then he had run as if he were being chased!

The turtles were only a few months old, and had started walking and saying a few words. They were smart, however, and had stayed hidden in the burrow while Splinter was gone, buried under blankets piled in a corner. Indeed, when he made it back, they stayed hidden in fear-- he was still wearing the coat and hat, and it distressed them to no end! When this "stranger" had miraculously turned into Splinter, they were not only relieved but highly impressed: Father knew magic!

Then he had presented them with little things he called "glasses" filled with what they called "white water".

Each turtle, holding the little glasses in their tiny hands, stared suspiciously at the "white water", unsure of what they were to do. Leonardo sniffed it carefully; Donatello seemed more interested in the container than the liquid it held; Raphael's face was screwed up in a comical expression of distrust; and Michelangelo was looking closely at the tiny pictures on his own glass.

"Come on, my sons. Drink it up!" Splinter had said, demonstrating with his hands and the old cup that he'd been using for whenever they needed a drink. "Drink it up, and grow strong! Strong bones- strong teeth- strong shells!"

So, trusting Splinter, they drank it up, slowly at first-- and then in great gulping swallows! The white water tasted so good!

"More!" Michelangelo had chirped, milk dripping from his upper "lip", and the others echoed him readily, their own "milk mustaches" visible in the pale light of the candle that was always lit against the dark. Splinter'd refilled their little glasses again and again, and they'd filled their tummies with this delicious treat that Father had brought to them. They had never known such marvelous things existed. This must be the best thing in the world, and their father had gotten it just for them!

Mikey stared at his little glass with the pictures of the turtles on it, also thinking of the story. He still didn't know why Sensei had given him this particular glass. It's possible that he just handed them out, and Mikey had attached himself to it. All he knew was, this had always been his glass, and he wouldn't drink out of any other.

Raph picked up his and held it up to his brothers. His had little bears all over it, and like Mikey, he didn't know if it was deliberately his or he just ended up using it out of habit.

"Come on, guys! Let's make a toast with the last of the milk!"

"Yeah. No point in staring at it," Leo agreed, lifting his own duck-decorated one. "It's not gonna magically fill up, so we may as well drink it down."

Don's glass with the little bunnies joined the other two, and all eyes looked cheerfully at Mikey. They knew how he was feeling, for they felt that way themselves. They were worried. They were a bit scared. But they wanted to cheer up this brother who had been feeding them all this time.

"Come on, Mikey," Raph urged him with a grin. "Cheers!"

Mikey held up his glass, and they clinked them together.

"Strong bones- strong teeth- strong shells!" he smiled, and they drank down the last of the "white water" in one quick gulp.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"... and the milk is gone, but we can last without that," Raph finished reporting the inventory to his father.

Splinter, propped up in bed and looking weaker than ever, nodded, and sighed. They could get along, but he hated that they would have to. He worried that they would be without this most important source of nutrition.

"What are we gonna do about no bread, Sensei?" Mikey spoke up. "I don't know what to feed you. Should we try the rice again?" And he suppressed a shudder at the memory of what had happened when Splinter had tried to eat some plain rice earlier.

Splinter drew in a wheezy breath. This illness had settled in his chest, and the turtles were scared when he made that sound-- not realizing that this was a sound that would frighten their father whenever the illness had settled in their lungs as well. He shook his head weakly, and smiled as best as he could.

"It is all right, my son," he managed to say. "I will be fine with just the tea. And I should be better in another day or two."

But he'd been saying that for the past three days. And he just kept getting worse and worse it seemed.

They'd been taking turns sleeping in the room with him just in case he needed something. He wasn't always aware of it, and when he was, it made him so determined to get better that he'd get up and try to take up his role as father, and would manage for a short time-- only to collapse in a coughing fit, or nearly faint from the fever.

And they weren't the only ones being frightened by this illness. Splinter had spent a good deal of his waking time these past two days worrying about the survival of his sons if something happened to him. It preyed on his mind so much that the third night after the milk had run out, he woke Leo in the middle of the night with a dream.

"You have done well," he wheezed, startling Leo awake. He was propped up on pillows in the bed next to Sensei, who was also propped up to ease his breathing. "I am glad to see that you have taken such good care of your brothers all these years."

Leo looked at Splinter in the glow of the candle that they kept constantly lit at night. His eyes were open, and he was talking to someone in front of him!

"Yes, you have done well indeed. I can see that you all kept up your training without me! That must have been hard for you."

"Uh... Sensei? Father?" Leo tried shaking Splinter just a little, but Splinter didn't register the little son next to him. His focus was on an adult son standing before him in his hallucination.

Leo felt Splinter's head-- burning up! He quickly reached for the bowl of medicine that Don had said was the best to control the fever.

"Father, you need to take this," he tried, but Splinter still didn't appear to listen. "Father?"

"All these years," Splinter repeated, shaking his head sadly. Leo felt like shouting for help. He stared at the bowl in his hands, trying to think.

"All these years, Father?" he asked without thinking, trying to figure out how to get his father to drink the medicine. He was startled even more when Splinter seemed to answer him.

"Yes, my son. I was so sorry to have left you all when you were so young, but you have done a fine job of raising your brothers as well as yourself. You have become fine warriors!"

Poor Leo was so confused as well as scared. Splinter spoke as if he had left them. So much of it made no sense, but that part seemed clear to the six-year-old.

Leo wanted so much to shake him, to make him wake up! He wanted to call his brothers for help-- he wanted his father to be normal! What was he to do? What was he to do?

And then something started to glow inside his brain-- something small and bright and insistent and very much "Sensei"-- and he gathered his courage and looked at his father.

"Here is your tea, Father," he said, pressing the small bowl into Splinter's hands, and to his joy Splinter accepted it and drank it down!

"I am sorry that I left you all without any milk," he said after drinking the medicine. Leo gulped as he took the bowl and placed it back on the little table.

"It wasn't your fault, father," Leo said, taking Splinter's hand. "It just happened. It wasn't your fault. It was ours. We didn't take good enough care of you." He hardly knew what he was saying; but he somehow found words that seemed to get through to the sleeping Splinter.

"You took excellent care of me," he wheezed, now looking at Leo-- and yet, Leo could tell that he really wasn't seeing him. "I was careless and let myself get too weak. Forgive me for leaving you all so young, with no milk to drink!"

His eyes looked as if they were about to close now. But he continued talking, as Leo tried to comfort him.

"Milk... I must go out and get more milk. The grocery store has plenty of milk for my sons. Michelangelo needs his milk, he is still so small... Donatello as well... Donatello and Michelangelo... Always make sure your brothers have enough milk to drink, Leonardo! Always make sure you drink your milk, Leonardo! It is good for you... remember, 'strong bones- strong teeth- strong shells'..." his voice faded as his dream shifted to the present, and his eyes closed.

Leo sat still, trying not to cry, still holding Splinter's hand.

Milk. He needed to get milk for Don and Mikey. Splinter said so. He would do as Sensei said; as Sensei does! He would go topside and get milk! He had to! His father was worried and his brothers needed milk.

He looked at his sleeping father. He had said much that Leonardo could not understand, but the last message had been clear:

He **had **to get milk for his brothers! It was his responsibility to look after them.

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Much, much later:

He had dressed in the clothes that Splinter had brought into the Lair for them to wear during the winter when the place was cold. Splinter kept them in a special chest in his room, and Leonardo, after several sleepless hours of planning, had carefully rummaged out a good disguise. Now, in the glow of the candle they kept lit in Sensei's room, he studied himself in the mirror on the wall.

Large green sweater, black pants, rubber boots for walking in the water, and a hooded coat that zipped up enough to help hide his face. He looked at his reflection, and nodded. He could do this! He looked perfect!

He glanced towards the bed. Splinter's fever had dropped almost as dramatically as it had risen, and Leo could sense that he was sleeping peacefully. Even his breathing was better then it had been in a while.

Checking his pocket to make sure that the money was secure, he turned to leave the room-- and ran smack into Raph, who had come in on his way back from a middle of the night trip to the bathroom to see if things were okay.

"And where the heck are you goin' all dressed up like that?" Raph whispered, his face wearing a cross between a smirk and concern.

"I'm going out to get some milk and bread," came the casual reply. In fact, Leo had said it so casually that Raph for a second thought he was being sarcastic. But as his brother stared him boldly in the eye, Raph realized that he was dead serious.

"You can't! We promised Splinter! On our honor!" he whispered loudly, horrified at the fact that his crazy brother was going to actually break his word.

"I have to. Splinter is counting on me to take care of you all," he said with calm conviction. "He said so earlier. He said to make sure that Don and Mikey have enough milk. So that means go get it."

And he tried to get past Raph. But Raph blocked the door, knowing that he could do this because neither one wanted Sensei to wake up at that moment. Leo would not fight him for fear of waking Splinter!

"You're crazy! He never said any such thing!"

"I'm going, Raph. I have to. He put me in charge and said make sure they always have milk! I have to do this."

"You never been topside before!"

"Yes I have," he contradicted. "Once, when he went to get some milk at that all night grocery, he took me along and let me hide in the alley. I could see the door of the store. I watched him go in-- there were people there, Raph! It was the bravest thing I ever saw! He just walked in and I could see him through the windows-- he walked up to the place where the milk is, and picked some up, and paid for it, and walked out in front of those people, and no one noticed!"

And Leo, his voice growing louder with the story, sighed in admiration at the memory of his father bravely going among the surface dwellers, as if he was one of them!

"Watchin' him get the milk and you're goin' in to get the milk ain't the same," Raph pointed out sensibly-- and also a little more loudly than he should have. "You ain't never talked to a surface dweller! You can't do it, Leo! I can't let you do it, and Sensei will kill us both!"

"He is counting on me to get the milk," Leo stubbornly insisted. "I can't let him down! Now move!"

"Sensei is gonna kill us both!" Raph kept muttering, still not moving.

"Raph, why is he gonna kill you? It's not like you're going with me."

"Oh, yes I am!" and he quickly and quietly went to the chest and rummaged out a pair of jeans, a dark sweatshirt, more rubber boots and another hooded jacket. Before Leo could do anything about it, he was dressed and standing by his brother.

"We are so gonna be dead," he muttered. "Well? Got the money? Let's get there and get back 'fore anyone catches us." And he quietly led the way out of Splinter's room. Leo, checking once to see that the money he'd taken from Splinter's little box on the dresser was safe in his pocket, followed, and the two of them carefully snuck out of the Lair, quietly closing the door.

They made their way through the sewers with the one flashlight and little talking-- except for the chanting of some sort of prayer...

"Head down, don't make eye contact. Head down, don't make eye contact..."

The way seemed so long, through the dark, dripping tunnels; the squeak of unseen rats; the scurrying from the flashlight beam of seen ones; the sound of the water in the channel, much quieter now that it hadn't rained for so long; the ever present smells and sounds that they had grown up with-- none of it registered with them. Side by side, as if attached at the shoulders, they kept walking, kept muttering-- "Head down, don't make eye contact. Head down, don't make eye contact."

They reached the old, rusty, grime-covered ladder that led to the surface-- and adventure-- and milk--

They stood there, desperate to go up, but scared to make the first move. Their feet seemed to have become imbedded in the concrete floor; Their eyes, gazing upwards into the dark, focused on the faint outline of the heavy lid that held back the topside from them.

Raph was struggling not to shake as cold fear began to grip his stomach, threatening to make him either throw up or run crying like a baby-- or both.

"Leo this is stupid! There ain't no way we can pull this off!"

Leo so wanted to listen to Raph, to turn around and make their way quickly back to the lair, lock the door, and never go out again. His stomach was knotted up, and he was finding it hard to take a deep breath. His legs were twitching with the desire to run away from this!

"Come on, Leo!" Raph urged-- and then said the wrong thing. "Come on, this ain't like the toaster! It's okay to be scared of this! Let's get out of here!"

The toaster.

Grim determination, mixed with wounded pride, settled on Leo's face, and with his best dojo shout, he leapt at the ladder and scurried up as quickly as his rubber boots and shaking hands would let him!

"Aww--- we are so dead!" Raph growled, and followed his brother to the top.

They could hear the noises of the topside: cars, trucks, faint music! They struggled and struggled to shift the heavy manhole cover. It seemed to take an eternity! It was so heavy, so unyielding-- and then unexpectedly it slid to the right, making a scraping sound that seemed loud enough for the entire city to hear!

They froze as the rarely seen night sky peeped at them from between the tall buildings that lined the inky alley. Smells of food, of garbage, of exhaust assailed their sewer-trained nostrils, but they fought down the desire to enjoy these as they had on those few occasions when Sensei had let them come this far on some rare quest to start exposing them to the world of the surface dwellers.

Leo closed his eyes and took several quick, deep breaths, then he scrambled out of the hole, keeping low to the ground, eyes on the opening of the alley. He didn't look to see if Raph was following; he naturally assumed. Stealthily he moved from the hole to the deep shadows, making his way behind the dumpsters towards the opening of the alley, swallowing down the bile of fear that was trying to climb out of his throat.

Closer and closer, he quietly approached the ever widening exit that would lead him to his goal. Now he could feel Raph next to him. Raph had moved so quietly that Leo hadn't registered his presence until he had barely touched his sleeve.

Now they were behind the dumpster that had sheltered Leo the night Splinter had allowed him to watch when he'd entered the store.

"Holy..." Raph couldn't help whispering. This was his first view of a grocery store in real life! The front of the building seemed to be all glass, and the place was full of light! So much light!

"Leo, you can't go in there! They'll see you! They'll see us!"

"Calm down! Look, there's no cars in the parking lot, and I can only see the person who works there," Leo attempted to reassure his brother as well as himself. "We can do this! All we gotta do is cross the street--"

"And not become turtle pancakes!" Raph hissed, as several cars and trucks went speeding by suddenly.

"Raph, we can do this!" Leo was begging his brother to back him up. He had to get that milk! He had to! And nothing was going to stop him! NOTHING!

With more determination than common sense, they held hands and stepped from the safe, dark anonymity of the alley into the harsh, illuminated night of the surface world--

And were suddenly confronted by a tall "someone" wearing a long, dark coat!

"And where do you two think you are going?" the gruff, hoarse voice croaked at them, causing them both to cry out in fear. Without one thought of their training, they turned tail and ran as fast as they could to the manhole cover--

-- only to find that it had been replaced!

"You **closed** it?" Leo gasped in disbelief and fear, struggling to lift the heavy thing by himself.

"NO! How could I?" Raph was nearly crying as he, too, struggled to move this stubborn object that stood between them and home!

The tall figure in the long coat was slowly coming towards them. He knew that they had no where to go. He could take his time with these two foolish boys. And he planned on taking his time with them. Grim delight coursed through him as he slowly approached the two frantic boys struggling with the manhole cover.

Leo, looking up, gasped in fear, grabbed Raph's arm, and dragged him further into the alley-- only to meet a walled off end. There was no place to hide, no one to call for help! Desperately he looked at the buildings, realizing for the first time how many windows were in them; how many surface dwellers were surrounding them! Would it be better to be caught by this stranger or yell for help?

"Leo!" Raph frantically squeaked, as the stranger appeared out of the shadows. They could hear him softly laughing.

Instinctively both turtles looked around, and each found something to grab as a weapon: Raph had a bottle, and Leo an old piece of pipe. Backs to the wall, armed with what they had, they did their best to remember their training, and took up fighting stances.

"I'm sorry, Raph, for letting you come along," Leo said, eyes never leaving the figure before them.

Raph, not taking his eyes off this being coming closer to them, nevertheless addressed himself to Leo.

"I coulda stayed home! I coulda told Splinter and stopped you!"

The figure came closer, closer, closer-- then stopped just out of reach of their weapons. They had no way to get past him without a fight. They were trapped!

"I'm sorry, Raph!" Leo said one more time, tightening his hold on the metal pipe, holding it as if it were a bokken. "We'll be okay! We'll be okay! We'll be okay!"

"I hope we make it outta this alive," Raph growled nervously, gripping the bottle's neck tightly. "Cause I really, really, **really** OWE YOU ONE, LEO!"


	9. Chapter 9

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Thanks for reading! Thanks for reviewing! Thanks for everything! TMNT are the property of Mirage! Thanks for Mirage!

Last chapter:

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The figure came closer, closer, closer-- then stopped just out of reach of their weapons. They had no way to get past him. They were trapped.

"I'm sorry, Raph!" Leo said one more time, tightening his hold on the metal pipe, holding it as if it were a bokken. "We'll be okay. We'll be okay. We'll be okay."

"I hope we make it outta this alive," Raph growled nervously, gripping the bottle's neck tightly. "Cause I really, really, **really** OWE YOU ONE, LEO!"

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We're gonna die, we're gonna die, and it's all my fault! Leonardo kept thinking as he tightened his grip on the metal pipe he'd found. This thought kept replaying itself loudly and insistently in his head-- and yet there was one more, quiet yet more powerfully insistent voice kept interrupting, making itself overheard eventually loud enough for him to understand: _Protect your brother! Protect your brother! You must protect your brother!_

Raphael, eyes never leaving this dangerous stranger, kept thinking two things over and over himself: _Why didn't I wake Splinter up? Why didn't I wake Splinter up?_

But the most overriding thought-- _Protect your brother! Protect your brother! You must protect your brother!_

The stranger laughed hoarsely. His voice was harsh and whispery and scary to them. The hat he wore low, covering the top part of his face; the collar of his long coat was turned up to hide the rest of it. All they could see were two eyes; two eyes that glowed with pleased emotion.

"So! Two young 'gentlemen' out of their home at this hour of the night!" the voice laughed, and it grated on their ears like nothing they'd ever heard. "Probably sneaked out without anyone knowing that they are gone... or **where** they have gone..." and this last part nearly caused both of them to cry in fear at the myriad of possible meanings.

Only their close contact with each other kept them from falling to pieces. Through their tears showed the grim determination to protect each other! They were brothers! Splinter always drove home that point, whether it was in the dojo during training or in the bedroom mediating in a pointless squabble.

They were **brothers**!

"S-Stay away from us!" Leo's voice cracked loudly, both fierce and frightened. "Stay away from my brother and me! We know how to fight!"

The tall stranger pretended fear, which made them both more fearful than before-- and strangely enough, more angry; more determined;

More willing to make sure that the other one had a chance to get away!

"We mean it!" Raph asserted, breaking the bottle on the wall behind him like he'd seen in countless bad movies on TV-- startling himself as well as only leaving him with what he held in his hand plus two inches beyond that-- "We mean it!" his voice suddenly squeaked despite his anger. "We can protect ourselves!"

"Protect yourselves!" the stranger laughed, and took a step forward, causing the two six-year-olds to back up against the wall without thinking. "Fight! You two can fight ME?"

"Our Sensei has taught us to fight like Ninja!" Leo bellowed. "He is a great teacher! You will be sorry to have challenged us!"

"Fight like ninja?" and now the stranger laughed loudly. "Taught you to fight like ninja? He is a failure as a Sensei!"

Both of them froze at these words: not just the meaning-- or the speaker-- but it was as if suddenly there was something familiar about this voice-- something threatening-- but not evil-- something well known--

"He is a failure!" the familiar voice reasserted, stepping even closer to the two frightened turtles. "He failed to teach you to keep your word of honor! He failed to teach you to follow the command of a parent!"

And now he leaned closer, tipping the hat back and lowering the collar, revealing whiskers! Whiskers and a furry snout!

"He failed to teach you how to even buy milk!"

Both of them dropped their weapons and cried like babies. As one, they suddenly wrapped themselves round this "mysterious stranger", so choked up with emotion they couldn't even beg for forgiveness.

Splinter, still weak, still ill, still angry-- managed to center himself in the hysterical tears of his sons; he managed to draw a healing breath-- and to hug both of these boys, feeling some guilt at having to frighten them, mixed with much anger at their having done this thing-- but at the same time, great joy that they had NOT encountered anyone else tonight!

"I am so disappointed in the two of you," he hoarsely croaked, and their tears flowed even more freely as they realized that they should have recognized that sound-- considering how many days they'd listened to it in their father's illness. "And yet, I am so relieved to have found you both before anyone else has. My sons... my sons..."

And despite his anger, he comforted the two for a short time.

Then he let go of them and made them follow him to the man hole cover...

And past it!

Both turtles froze, still clinging to Splinter's long coat, trying to keep him from leaving the alley.

"Sensei! Where are you--" Leo tried asking, but the look that Splinter suddenly turned on him froze the words in his throat.

"I am going across the street to buy some milk," he replied calmly, gently removing their hands from his disguise. "Wait here. I will be right back."

"We don't need milk! Please, let's go home!" Raph begged, trying to keep his father from leaving them alone.

"I will be right back. Stay here and watch for me. It will not take long."

And he was gone before they could protest more.

They would have followed him if they had dared, but the adventure in the alley had robbed them of all power except the power of frightened imagination. They had lost sight of him for a bit as the night had swallowed him up, and they strained their red-rimmed eyes trying to find any trace of him.

"There!" Leo gasped, pointing at the figure of their father, hat and collar once again shielding his unique features, entering the store.

"Oh, no," whispered Raph, for at that moment a police car pulled into the parking lot, and two uniformed humans got out and entered as well.

They could barely breathe-- their hearts were pumping so hard and fast that they could hear each other's-- Splinter was visible, picking up two jugs of milk. One of the police officers walked up behind him, reaching out an arm towards their father!

"No, no, no, no, no!" Leo wanted to scream, but he barely voiced his words. It was as if his vocal chords were rebelling against him. His throat felt constricted; he could barely swallow, much less cry out his fear!

The arm went past their father and picked up a small carton. With a nod to each other, Splinter made his way to the counter, where the other officer was waiting for his partner. The clerk seemed to speak to Splinter, who nodded, got his change, picked up the two bags, and calmly exited the store.

Neither turtle seemed to remember how to breathe until he was safely back in the alley with them. Handing them the bags without any words, he led the way to the manhole cover, and with difficulty moved it so they could return to the depths and safety.

All the way home the two were silent. Raph and Leo took turns carrying the heavy bags and assisting their still ill father. Splinter as well didn't speak. He was still too angry to voice anything at the moment, and wished to be calmer when he finally addressed these two. His worried parent adrenaline rush was exhausted, and it was taking all his strength to make it home as it was-- at the moment he had none to spare in righteous paternal wrath.

Finally they reached the darkened Lair.

"Put the milk away, then go to bed," he weakly rasped out. "We will discuss this later this morning."

"Father--" Leo tried, voice choked once again with crying, but Splinter shook his head, leaving them without a backward glance as he slowly made his way back to his own room, one hand supporting himself against the wall as he went.

"Later, Leonardo. I am too tired and too upset to talk about it now. Put the milk away please, and go to bed. Now!"

And with that he entered his room and shut the door.

Leo and Raph didn't even look at each other. Sniffling, they put the milk in the fridge, then went into their own room, dumping clothing and boots in a careless pile then climbing into their own bunks.

But neither one got much sleep.

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Michelangelo got up without the prodding of Leonardo, which was shock number one.

Shock number two: the pile of clothes littering the floor. He glanced at both of his apparently sleeping older brothers, but instead of prodding them he shut off the alarm and made a dash for the bathroom, crowing about being first!

In the kitchen Mikey found shock number three: MILK!

"Donnie!" he shouted, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "Donnie! Come here! Hurry!"

Don, imaging some disaster, ran into the kitchen to find Mikey staring into the fridge.

"What's the emergen-- MILK?"

Mikey looked at his older brother as if he could tell him how this was possible. Don, however, looked just as puzzled as his younger brother.

"Maybe Sensei is better?" Donatello guessed. "Maybe he went out and got it?"

Mikey suddenly shouted "OH!" and made tracks for their bedroom, closely followed by Don.

Mikey grabbed up some of the clothing-- two jackets! Two pairs of pants!

"NO! They couldn't have!" he was gasping, and Don, studying the situation, jumped to the same conclusion: their brothers had gone out of the Lair; had, indeed, gone topside!

"Oh, Donnie," Mikey began to cry. "Sensei is gonna **kill** them! I don't want him to kill them! What do we do? What do we do? I know! We throw the milk out! We hide the clothes and throw the milk out!"

Don had to physically restrain his brother from carrying out this plan.

"Mikey! Calm down! We can't do either of those things. Let's go see Master Splinter. It'll be all right," he added as Mikey made to protest. "Come on. We have to go see Master Splinter."

Slowly they made their way to the room of their father, and slowly entered.

Splinter was sitting up in bed, looking much better!

"Good morning, Sensei," they said in unison, bowing.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Donnie asked, immediately climbing up on the bed to feel his forehead. "Hey! I think your fever is gone!"

"Yes, my son," Splinter smiled. 'I think so as well. I am feeling much better, though still very tired." He looked at Michelangelo, who had remained rooted to the floor, looking distressed. In one hand he still clutched the two jackets he'd picked up in his room. "What is troubling you, my son?"

All of a sudden Mikey began to wail, and he threw himself onto his father's bed, leaping into a startled Splinter's arms, and hugging him fiercely.

"Please don't kill Raph and Leo! They didn't mean to buy the milk! Please don't kill them!" he begged, making quite a scene.

Splinter felt like laughing. Michelangelo was so protective of his brothers, even when they had lost all patience with him or fought with him. Even when he was maddest with them, he hated to see them punished. He didn't mind the little punishments, like flips or such, but he was convinced that his brothers had done Something Dreadful, and there was only one punishment for Something Dreadful: a terrible spanking! And that was only the first of the punishment! Cleaning the dojo floor with a scrub brush! Restricted to bed! No TV! **And** doing everyone else's chores for a week!

Well-- that part wouldn't be so bad, he would love for Raph and Leo to do **his** chores for a week-- but the rest!

So he pleaded for his brothers' lives as it were, and was almost inconsolable.

Splinter finally did laugh aloud, and that more than anything got Michelangelo to quiet down.

"I am not going to kill your brothers," he assured the sniffling child, as he accepted some tea and medicine from Donatello. "But I must punish them. Surely you can see that, Michelangelo. Call them in here for me, please, and you two shall hear what they have done, and help in the judgment."

Mikey, still sniffling, bowed and left the room. Donatello climbed up on the bed.

"Did they go out and buy milk, father?" he asked, and Splinter could hear the quiver in his voice-- he, too, was concerned for his brothers' welfare.

"Yes and no," he replied. "We will wait until they are in here."

In the room, both Raph and Leo were awake, but neither one made a move to get up. They had heard the alarm go off. They had heard the commotion of their brothers in the kitchen and in the bedroom. They had pretended to be asleep so they could avoid any questions-- and then they had heard Mikey wailing from Splinter's room.

"Great," Raph sighed. "I'm guessin' that he's begging Sensei not to kill us."

"Yeah," Leo agreed, staring at the wall. "Just what we need-- our baby brother making things 'better'."

"Yeah, by makin' them worse," Raph couldn't help smiling. He spoke from experience. Mikey, in his brotherly attempts to get them out of trouble, usually landed them in more.

Leo laughed slightly.

"Well, I doubt we can be in more trouble then we already are. I'm sorry, Raph. I shoulda not let you come along."

"Naw, I'm sorry. I shoulda stopped you some how."

Neither one voiced the obvious "shoulda": they never "shoulda" gone in the first place.

Mikey's tearstained face peeked in the room. He was hoping they'd still be asleep and then he could tell Splinter they were still asleep and this could all wait until later.

But his brothers saw him, knew that he'd been sent for them, and got up at once. Mikey rushed them, hugging first one then the other, getting tears all over them in the process.

"Why did you do it?" he started sobbing afresh, and both brothers were hindered in their walk to Splinter's room by his clinging to them, tripping them up as he continued to try to embrace first one, then the other, back and forth and back and forth. It was all they could do to keep from shouting at him.

"Jeeze, Mikey, give it a rest!" Raph complained, but in a kind way. "He's not gonna eat us, ya know!"

"That is right, my son," Splinter's voice reached them. They entered the room to see Don sitting on the bed next to Splinter. "Michelangelo, you need to stop your crying and come here. We must discuss this as a family. If you cannot control yourself, you will have to go to your room until we are finished."

Mikey quickly gulped down the last of his tears, and smothered his sobs by holding his breath. He joined Don on the bed, facing his brothers, who stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Splinter, waiting for the boom to be lowered.

"Last night I had a strange dream," he said for the benefit of the two younger turtles. "I dreamed that I was speaking to Leonardo in the future. I do not remember much of what I said, but I am sure it was about caring for his brothers."

"Was it a scary dream?" Michelangelo couldn't help asking, and Splinter nodded his head.

"Yes. Parts of the dream were 'scary' as you say, and I will not repeat those parts. But parts of it were very good. And parts of it were rather foolish. I dreamed that you all needed milk. I dreamt it so much that I forgot everything else."

He looked now at the two oldest.

"Then I dreamed that I heard voices, and they were talking about leaving the Lair to buy milk. They were whispered, secretive, plotting voices, and they made me dream that my sons-- who had both promised on their honor to not leave the Lair and go topside-- had disguised themselves and were going to buy milk. Even though they had never been above ground for more than a few minutes. Imagine my surprise when I woke up to the sound of the door opening and closing!"

"You mean they really bought the milk?" Donatello couldn't believe it.

"No, they did not. But they intended to. They had dressed themselves and taken money and left the lair. I could not believe that this dream was true-- until I got up and went to your room. Imagine my shock! My sons had left their home without anyone knowing, and were going to attempt to boldly enter a store to buy milk!"

Mikey looked at both of them, awe mixed with fear.

"You guys were crazy! What if they caught you? What if they put you in a zoo? What if--" and he almost started to cry again, imagining all sorts of horrors.

"What did you do, Father?" Donatello asked.

"I did what I had to do, my son. I had to get dressed and follow them as quickly as my illness allowed," Splinter replied. "I could not let anything happen to my sons, no matter how sick I was. I followed them wearing the clothes I put on when I go out, for I knew the tunnels were cold, and I did not wish to become even more sick. I had planned on catching up to them and dragging them home. And then I had an idea. I would follow them topside! I would teach them in a cruel way why they needed to listen to me."

He turned his attention back to Leonardo and Raphael.

"When you almost changed your minds, I was so glad," he told them. "And then you went anyway. Why is that?"

Leo looked as if he'd been jabbed with a pin. He wasn't expecting a question to be asked just yet. But he swallowed down his nervousness and faced his father.

"It is true. I almost changed my mind. Raph was pleading with me to go home. But I... well, Raph said something that made me... made me ashamed... and angry... and so I was foolish and decided to go topside anyway. It was all my fault. Raph is not to blame."

"We will discuss blame later," Splinter replied. "So, Donatello and Michelangelo, when I saw your brothers climb up the ladder and out of the manhole, I followed, waiting my chance. While they focused on this foolish mission, I quietly closed the manhole so they could not return. Then I stuck to the shadows and exited the alley under their very noses. I waited around the corner for them to appear. They finally got up their courage, and left the alley, stepping into the very public world. And they ran into me."

Splinter continued to weave this tale of terror, and after a moment, he noticed that Donatello and Michelangelo were beginning to struggle to not laugh. Splinter's description of how he was dressed and how terrified their brothers were at confronting this "stranger" was so comical that they were failing to suppress their amusement at the pictures in their mind of their brothers' fear. And all the time Leo and Raph stood there, facing this together.

"And now," Splinter concluded, as he finished telling them how he went to buy the milk and they had all come home, "it is time to decide a few things. But I would hear from you two first before I choose a punishment-- for they must be punished I am afraid. They broke their word to me. Donatello, please go first."

Don looked at his brothers, picturing again in his mind their adventure. One thing truly puzzled him and he decided to address this question.

"Why did you decide to go buy milk, Leo? We could have gotten along without it. What made you think you needed to do such a thing?"

Leo swallowed hard.

"Father," he addressed Splinter rather than Don. "Your fever was very high, and you started talking to someone. Then you started talking to me, and you kept talking about the milk, and how it was important that Don and Mike have plenty of milk, and you told me to make sure they had plenty of milk and I saw that you were worried, and I got worried and-- and-- and I thought you meant that I should go get milk for them." His voice, starting out in strong justification, finished in an embarrassed whisper. As he told this tale, it finally occurred to him that Splinter had never told him to leave the lair and go buy milk. That had been his own idea; his own interpretation.

So he had lied to Raph after all.

He hung his head in shame. He had been justifying to himself that he'd been right, that Splinter had put him in charge-- and now he saw that it had really been just his own willful thinking.

He got down on his knees in the manner he'd been taught, and addressed Splinter.

"I'm sorry, Father," he said sincerely. "I am truly sorry. I made a bad choice, even though I knew it was wrong. And I broke my word to you. And I disappointed you. Please forgive me." And he bowed to the ground and stayed there.

Raph was right behind him.

"I'm sorry, Father," he also apologized. "I coulda stopped Leo when I got in the room, and I shoulda woke you up and told you he was goin' instead of dressin' up and goin' with him. I made a bad choice, and I disappointed you, too. Please forgive me." And he, too, bowed to the ground.

"I forgive you!" Mikey, unable to take the situation any longer, voiced his judgment anxiously.

Donnie hit him with his elbow, signaling him to be quiet.

Splinter smiled at both of them.

"Donatello, your brother has already given his opinion. Do you have anything to say?"

"Well... I think they should be punished for making you get out of bed to go after them in those cold wet tunnels... and for making you leave the tunnels for the night air. You've been very sick, and you're still not better. But I guess we can forgive them," Don said, looking only at his father. "But they still need a punishment."

Splinter looked at the two on the floor.

"Both of your brothers agree, so I must side with them," he said. "I do forgive you. I will, however, not forget this incident. But I do forgive you both. Come here."

They jumped up and eagerly approached Splinter. He held his arms out to them both, and gathered them to him as if he would never release them again.

They gladly returned this protective hug and held on as if they would never let go. Then they joined their brothers and father on the bed.

"Man! I can't believe you two were so brave!" Mikey, now that the serious part was over, voiced his admiration-- and earned himself a smack on the arm from Don.

"They weren't brave, shell-for-brains, they were stupid," Don admonished him.

Mikey frowned angrily. He wanted to argue with Don so much, but Splinter interrupted.

"They were both," he said calmly. "Though I prefer the term 'foolish' rather than 'stupid'. You know how I feel about that word. But they were brave. Leonardo, you say that I was talking to you. I am guessing that I must have been talking in my sleep, yes?"

"I think so. Only your eyes was open," Leo confirmed. "And you didn't talk like you knew I was there at first. And your fever was very high. But you drank the medicine for me and then you started talking about the milk. You acted all worried."

Splinter nodded, confirming his thoughts.

"I **was** worried. I am your father, and I worry about you all whether I am well or ill. That is part of my responsibility. It is not your responsibility to worry, however. This past week or more you all have had to worry too much over things. Michelangelo has had to take my job of cooking for you. Donatello has taken my job of caring for the sick. And you two took my job of inspecting the sewers to insure our home was safe. This is not the way it is supposed to be, but there is nothing we can do about that."

He looked at all four and smiled.

"I am proud of all of you," he said simply. "You have done well, and have taken good care of me as well as each other. I am pleased."

The four beamed at the warm words of praise from their father. They exchanged grins, and would have celebrated-- but for one thing.

"What about their punishment?" Michelangelo suddenly remembered, and then cringed as Leo and Raph shot him rather startled and dirty looks for reminding Father of it.

Splinter looked at the two in question, and a slightly threatening smile played across his lips.

"Let us just say for now that I owe you one."


	10. Epilogue

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Epilogue-- well, I had to do it. I just had to visit them one more time! Forgive a sentimental woman! TMNT are owned by Mirage. Incidental shop owners are creations of mine, and are not important to anything except my own creative beliefs.

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EPILOGUE:

When Mr. Sakai came downstairs from his home above his small grocery, and entered his business to begin his busy day, he noticed at once that his most loyal "customer" had been here.

"Look!" he called to Mrs. Sakai, who was just entering the store. "Mr. Hamato was here last night!"

Relief spread over the old lady's face.

"I'm so glad! I was worried that the people he is hiding from had finally found him." And she made a small and grateful bow to the store's Buddha. "Did he leave a letter as usual?"

"Yes. Apparently he was very ill for the past few weeks, and his poor sons were left to take care of their father," he replied, and handed his wife the simple white paper that was elegantly decorated with some of the most graceful kanji either one had ever seen.

"Such beautiful writing!" she sighed in continued admiration. "No! Those poor boys! They are only, what, six now? How were they able to take care of their father? They must have been eating poorly." She read the letter carefully. "Ah! He has nothing but praise for them, however. He has raised them well."

"Except for the two who attempted to go out in public to purchase milk at the all-night grocery," Mr. Sakai sighed. "Foolish children! Has he not told them time and again that they must live in hiding? I am sure the Yakuza must be the ones after that poor man."

Mrs. Sakai agreed with her husband, though in the beginning she was worried that perhaps there was a Mrs. Hamato who had no idea where her husband had gone with their quadruplets. But ever since that first day when they had opened the store to find a paper crane, a neat envelope, and an itemized list of purchases, along with an apology for breaking into the store in order to feed his sons, the Sakais had realized that this was more than just a custody dispute. Over the past few years a sort of written friendship had sprung up between Mr. Hamato and the Sakais, and though no details were given, it was commonly believed that this family was in hiding from the Japanese mob, or Immigration, or both.

"I am glad that he is better," Mr. Sakai said, putting the money into the cash register and carefully hiding the letter until later when he could properly dispose of it. "It is such a shame to destroy such beautiful calligraphy."

"Yes, but at least we have this," his wife agreed, pointing to a beautiful banner that had obviously been done with great skill as well as feeling.

The kanji symbol for "Prosperity" painted on the rare piece of silk looked as if it were the work of a gifted artist, and the Sakais believed that since Mr. Hamato had presented them with it, their business as well as their family had been very prosperous indeed. Was it not Mr. Hamato who pointed out how to make the shop more secure from the local street punks and gangs? Ever since those first few times when he started "regretfully breaking into your estimable store, please forgive me, but it is necessary", Mr. Sakai was able, through the advice of Mr. Hamato, to dramatically decrease the acts of vandalism and break-ins a hundred fold.

"We are lucky indeed," her husband agreed, opening the store and greeting his first official customer of the day.

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The training went back to its regular schedule for only a few days. The pay backs were being dealt out during sparing time, but soon ended with the illness of first Michelangelo, and then Donatello. Both brothers were bedridden within twenty-four hours of each other, and they had it pretty bad, just as Splinter had feared. He continued to train Leonardo and Raphael, who for some lucky reason were being missed by the illness.

Poor Donatello had fever so bad at times that Splinter worried for his survival-- as he always did when a son was sick. One terrible day Donatello was burning up so bad that Splinter filled the tub with lukewarm water and sat with him in it, cooling him down slowly, holding him tightly, afraid that he might lose him.

Michelangelo couldn't keep anything down except toast and tea, and even that was a struggle. He was so hungry at times, that they would give in and let him have something else, but shortly after eating, it would come right back up, and he would cry for some time.

"I really wanted to eat Chicken Jumble," he sobbed that one night, when Splinter had allowed him a tiny bit of this special meal. He had cheerfully swallowed it down, only to lose it about fifteen minutes later. Splinter could only console him, rocking him in the old rocking chair and telling him over and over that it would be all right.

Both were miserable, with chest-wracking coughs that threatened to rob them of breath as easily as it robbed them of sleep, and they were being waited on hand and foot by the older brothers as part of their punishment.

Leonardo took all of Donatello's chores, and Raphael was responsible for Michelangelo's-- which included cooking simple things. He soon grew to hate the toaster, and quit teasing Leo about his aversion to it after several bouts of bad luck and burnt toast.

"See? I told you that thing was evil," Leo said wisely to Raph as he was scraping the black stuff from his third attempt to make toast for Mikey.

Splinter, though he was not back to full strength, was able to begin his scavenging and foraging, as well as make his important trips to the two stores he occasionally visited. After all, winter was coming, and he had to take advantage of the rainy weather that had returned to make sure they had enough to get them through the difficult months ahead.

"I wish we could go with you to help," Leonardo said early one evening, as their father got dressed in the clothes he wore to help cover his form when scavenging topside. "You aren't really well yet."

"I wish that you could come with me as well, my son," Splinter smiled, touching Leonardo's anxious face. "But I will be fine, and you two must care for your brothers while I am gone. I promise I will not be long."

So Raph and Leo were baby-sitting two very sick brothers for the next few hours.

"My head is hurting," Mikey whined to Raph, as he brought him some tea and toast. "Can you do something about it?"

"Sorry, Mikey, but I'm not allowed to give you any medicines," Raph said sincerely. "But Splinter will be home soon. Shall I get you a cold rag?"

Mikey, eyes closed, biting his lip against the ache in his head, tried to be grown up-- but he couldn't. His head hurt so, and he longed for his father's return.

"Yes," he finally answered, nearly crying but managing not to, and Raph with great patience fetched the coldest rag he could manage, and laid it across Mikey's feverish forehead.

Meanwhile, Don was finally sleeping after nearly an hour of lung-bursting coughing. Leo had done as Splinter would do, propping Don up against himself and rubbing his back and chest, supporting him with words as well as steaming tea. Eventually his fit finally subsided, and he was able to fall asleep, but his breathing was very noisy, and Leo worried at every intake and release. It sounded worse than the groanings and moanings of the distant water pipes that echoed throughout the sewers; it sounded worse than Splinter had sounded on his worst night.

Splinter had had to rock him a long time the night before, when his fever had gone up so high and the coughing had become so bad that he couldn't even cry in pain. Leo had been very scared that night, even more scared than when Splinter had sat with Don in the bathtub to bring his fever down.

But so far, except for this recent coughing bout, he had been relatively okay under their watch.

The door opened, and Leo and Raph experienced such relief as they had never felt before. Father was home!

They didn't have a chance to go out to meet him, for they could hear him put down whatever he was carrying and make his way to them.

"How are the patients?" he asked softly, entering the room, shedding the clothes of his disguise. Wordlessly Raph and Leo moved quickly to help him undress from the sodden garments, each wishing they'd thought to have towels ready.

"My head hurts so bad!" Mikey cried before Leo or Raph could respond, and Splinter, though he was damp from his nighttime foray to the surface, made calming fussing sounds and bundled his youngest up in a blanket. He picked him up to take him into his room for painkilling medicines and fatherly rocking.

"Raphael and Leonardo, please put the supplies away for me, and then see to the dojo floor," he said, carrying Michelangelo to his room. "And that will be the last time. That part of your punishment is over."

Leo and Raph were glad of that bit of news! Scrubbing the dojo floor daily had been the second worst of the punishments; the spanking was quick but painful, and their tails were sore for a few days. But to them, the humiliation of being spanked was worse that the actual spanking.

Mikey couldn't understand that part at all when they'd tried to explain it. The spanking had hurt their pride more than their behinds.

Well... it had hurt their behinds plenty! But there was something about it that had also touched their pride; possibly because Splinter had done it in the presence of the two younger turtles as some sort of fatherly warning.

Now, once the dojo floor was scrubbed one more time, they would only have the chores of their brother to deal with. Splinter had spared them restriction to bed and let them keep their TV watching privilege in acknowledgment of their good intentions.

"Woo-hoo!" Raph cheered happily as they finished the job. "I hated this part the most!"

"Me, too!" agreed Leo, as he carefully put away the last of the supplies while Raph got rid of the bucket and brushes. "And now that Splinter is home, we can take a break from the chores as well."

"Whadda ya wanna do?"

"Let's just watch TV."

"Deal!"

It felt good to sit down for a few hours. They had worked hard to care for Splinter, but working hard to care for the brothers somehow seemed to require more of their time and energy.

They were sort of dozing on the couch when Splinter, having put Mikey back to bed, came into the room and sat between them on the old couch. They both woke up at that, rubbing their eyes.

"Well, perhaps we shall have a bit of peace for a while," Splinter sighed. Don was still sleeping, and now that Mikey's headache had been dealt with, Splinter could take a rest himself. As Leo had observed earlier, he still wasn't up to full-strength from his own bout with the flu, and Leo and Raph had noticed the sigh of relief their father had made in sitting down.

"I don't get it," Raph said, as if they'd been having a long conversation. "That whole time, Don and Mike stayed in the lair. Me and Leo was the ones who went out several times, getting all wet and stuff. Yet they get the flu and we don't."

"You sound disappointed that you are not ill," Splinter observed.

"No! I'm glad I'm not the one pukin' my guts out and coughin' my head off," he affirmed sincerely. "It's just, I thought that what with goin' out like that, we'd be the ones to get sick. I mean, Leo even fell in and nearly drowned--"

Splinter looked at Raphael suddenly, a bit shocked. Too late, Raph realized that they'd never told him the full story of what had happened-- just Don and Mikey. Both sons squirmed under his fatherly gaze.

But he let it go, allowing them to keep this secret for now.

"I have been thinking," he said instead. "This illness will not be the last, and I must prepare you all. You four did an excellent job as it was, with caring for yourselves as well as me. But I must prepare you for the future. You know that, unless I have to visit the other grocery, I sometimes purchase things from a small shop."

They nodded. Once in a while, Splinter would bring home some small gifts from the wife of the owner, who was convinced that four growing boys would need some little unexpected treat.

"If anything were to happen to me, I have no one I can leave you with," he continued sadly. He didn't want to address six year olds in this way, but he needed to prepare them for any possibility. "When Donatello and Michelangelo are better, I will take each of you with me to this shop, and teach you how to enter and exit without attracting attention. I will show you how I do this, but it is ONLY to be done by you if I direct you to do it-- while I am awake." And he looked at Leo.

Leo sank down on the couch a little, and smiled sheepishly.

"I've learned my lesson, Sensei," he assured Splinter. "I won't ever go topside ever again, unless it's with you."

Splinter smiled, satisfied for the moment.

"I wish you wouldn't think of this stuff anyway," Leo continued, looking at Splinter earnestly. "It's... it's too scary," he ended in a whisper, ashamed to be so afraid in front of his father and brother.

"I do not like to think of bad things, my sons, but I cannot help it. You four are important to me. You are my children, and I must protect you until you are old enough to protect yourselves. And I must prepare you to protect yourselves and each other for when I am gone."

"That won't never happen," Raph said confidently. "I know it for a fact! Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you, Sensei! You won't let it happen! Can I go with you first? Leo always gets to go first. I wanna go first this time."

Splinter laughed at the confidence with which Raphael made this statement, coupled with his request to be allowed the first opportunity to go topside.

"Yes, I will take you first," he said, and enjoyed the unexpected delight that crossed Raphael's face. "Leonardo has been allowed to observe me at the other place, so it is only fair that you have the first trip to the Sakai Market."

Raph was so happy that he couldn't even lord it over Leo. He just beamed with pleasure at father and brother alike.

Then Splinter sighed, and snuggled both sons to him, a protective arm around each. They gladly scooted in closely, and got their own arms around him in the process.

"I hope that neither of you will ever have to take up such a burden until you are well into your adult years, but I do not feel it a disservice to Michelangelo and Donatello when I say that I depend on you to look after your brothers. And I depend upon them to look after you. Never forget that you are brothers, my sons. No matter how angry you become at each other, no matter how many times you say 'I owe you one'. Remember that what you truly owe each other is your love and support."

Normally Leo and Raph didn't like the mushy talk, but tonight they were truly understanding of what Splinter was trying to say. Tonight it wasn't mushy: it was wonderful.

"We'll remember, Father," Leo assured him, hugging him tightly.

"We won't disappoint you, Father," Raph promised, hugging just as tightly from the other side.

Sudden coughing from the other room, coupled with the weak cries of both invalids, signaled that it was time for the next round of comfort and medicines and family love. The three of them got off the couch and went about the business of caring for each other.

And as Splinter watched these two assisting him with the others, he couldn't help but smile with pride and love.

Leonardo and Raphael, realizing that they were being watched, both turned and saw Splinter beaming at them. He put an arm around the two just before they were to go fetch him the required medicines and tea for their brothers, and kissed them each on the forehead.

"I owe you one," he whispered, and they grinned in appreciation.


End file.
